by Sarah Ladd
She felt Jane lean over her shoulder. “Is this where we are staying, or are we just changing the horses?”
“It’s too dark to go any farther. Not a bit of moonlight.” Amelia squinted to read the words carved into an aged, rectangular sign. “Eagledale Inn.”
The outlines of horses and men passed in front of her view, painting shadows against sides of the building. Muted music and laughter floated on the night air. The sound seemed to be coming from outside and to the left. She craned her neck to see if she could find the source, but none was visible.
The carriage door unlatched and swung open, and an icy blast swirled through the opening. After hours in the jerky carriage, the wind’s wintry bite invigorated her. A ripple of excitement tickled her stomach. The inn marked the halfway mark on their journey to Liverpool. They were that much closer to Lucy.
Captain Sterling removed his hat to duck inside the coach. He had decided to ride his horse alongside the carriage. When his hand rested on hers, Amelia jumped.
He clasped her fingers. “I’m going to go check on rooms. Don’t move or talk to anyone. The coachmen will stay with you.” Captain Sterling closed the door behind him, and she heard the click of the latch. She watched his form turn to a silhouette against the window light and then disappear through the door.
Amelia leaned back against the seat. Her eyes burned from crying, her muscles ached from several hours of jerky travel, and her body cried out for sleep. She thought of Lucy and Mrs. Dunne. Were they cold? Hungry? Uncomfortable? The very thought made her stomach turn. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tufted brocade. Now not only was Lucy heaven knows where, but she herself was hours away from home.
Jane and Amelia sat in silence until Captain Sterling opened the carriage door again.
“The inn is pretty full, but I was able to get us two rooms. You ladies will share one on the second floor. One of the coachmen is already taking your things up. Come, I’ll escort you.”
He extended his arm, and Amelia took it. Her legs were unsteady and stiff after hours of sleep and travel, and she almost stumbled on the narrow carriage steps. With her free hand she looped her cape hood over her head and then clung to his arm with both hands. The air carried pungent scents of horses, manure, and straw, causing her nose to wrinkle. The icy snow crunched under her half boots as they walked to the door. For once she was grateful that her feet were practically frozen; otherwise she might protest the pain of the sharp gravel beneath her thin soles.
Some of the inn’s male guests exited the building as they walked to the front door. Feeling their stares, Amelia cast a quick glance back at Jane and tightened her grip on Captain Sterling’s arm. He walked as if unconcerned, his breath fogging the cold night air. Amelia swallowed a lump of trepidation and tried to ignore the questionable-looking people they passed. She was far from Winterwood Manor indeed.
Once inside, Amelia was grateful for the heat, but the smell was not much improved. The scent of burnt meat and stale straw met her nose. The sounds of voices and music were louder.
She leaned toward her escort. “Where is all the noise coming from?”
He finally looked down at her. Dark circles underlined his tired eyes, and the start of a beard shadowed his cheeks and chin. “There’s a dining hall through that door, but it is no place for you. I’ve ordered something for you and Mrs. Hammond to eat. It should be brought up shortly.”
Still clinging to his arm, eyes wide, she allowed him to lead her up a narrow staircase and down a dimly lit hallway. The smell of stale straw was worse here, and she held a handkerchief up to her nose. Six doors lined the dark corridor, and he led her to the one on the right at the end. He stuck a key in the lock, turned it, and gave it a good shake. The lock popped, and the door swung open.
She stared at her sparse surroundings. The room, barely large enough for the three of them to stand in together, felt dank and dark.
Captain Sterling knelt at the fireplace and poked at the kindling with the poker. “I had them start you a fire—if you want to call this a fire.” He added more kindling and blew on it. “But at least you have a little light and warmth, which is more than I can say for the other patrons.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “You mean some of the rooms don’t even have a fireplace?”
He shook his head. “I told you this would be different from what you are accustomed to.”
She watched silently as he coerced the sputtering fire to a healthy flame. Once the fire allowed for a better look at the room, she removed her hood and surveyed her surroundings. One bed with a lumpy mattress butted up against the far wall. A single wardrobe chest stood next to a skinny window. Two wooden chairs and a rickety table edged close to the fireplace, and beneath her feet stretched a minuscule, well-worn rug. Nothing hung on the walls, with the exception of two wooden hooks next to the door.
Minutes later a kitchen maid appeared with a tray of food and tea. She set the tray on the table, bobbed a curtsy, and left. Amelia removed her damp cape from her shoulders and hung it on a hook to dry. Every part of her was cold.
She moved next to Captain Sterling at the fire. He poked the coals again and looked up at her. “I know this is not ideal, but there isn’t another inn within an hour’s travel.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Mrs. Hammond and I will be quite comfortable here.” Amelia hesitated, chewing her lip. The candlelight highlighted the strength in his jaw. The muscles in his neck twitched as he tended the fire. She wanted to grab his arm again, just as she had when he escorted her to the room. Being near him made her feel safe. Protected.
He stood and dusted his hands together to shake off the ashes from the fire. “The coachman set your things over by that chair, and if you are all settled, I will leave you ladies to rest.” He walked toward the door. “Make sure you lock the door. Don’t let anyone in, for any reason.”
Amelia almost reached out to keep him in the room. “Where are you going?”
“To finish tending the horses. I’ll be staying in the room directly above this one. If you need anything, stand on the chair and tap on the ceiling. I’ll be sure to hear you.”
“But surely you will eat something and get some rest too?”
He nodded. “I will knock on your door tomorrow morning. We’ll leave at dawn. I want to arrive in Liverpool as early as possible.”
He gave a short bow, and the smile he offered sent a flutter through her heart. But she was tired. Emotional. She needed to keep those two things in mind and not let her thoughts turn to fantasies.
Jane closed the door behind Captain Sterling, and Amelia strained to hear their retreating footsteps over the fire’s hiss and the shouts from the courtyard below.
Jane hung her cape on the hook next to Amelia’s and turned to survey the tiny room. “Your Captain Sterling is a very kind man. He seems quite concerned for your welfare.”
Amelia ignored the subtle tease in her friend’s voice. She moved to the small table and sat down. “You’d better eat this, er, stew before it gets cold.”
She eyed the dubious dinner, recognizing carrots and potatoes but not much else. She picked up a loaf of bread, but it was so hard she could barely tear it in two. Sighing, she dropped the loaf back onto the pewter plate and reached for the tea.
It would have to suffice.
Graham exited the stable and crossed the courtyard. With the horses secure and bedded down for the night, Amelia and Mrs. Hammond settled, and arrangements made for tomorrow’s journey, he could try to get some sleep. He would need to be rested for his search for Lucy once he arrived in Liverpool. One of the coachmen had offered to tend to Starboard, but Graham had been unable to rest until he’d checked on the animal himself. He found himself wondering at that. As a captain, he gave orders daily, if not hourly. Why could he not release such a minor chore?
The noise from the pub was louder now than it had been when he walked the ladies in. Laughter and shouts peppered the night air. He shoved his fists
in his pockets and forced his gaze on the door. How easy it would be to indulge in a drink or two to take the edge off of his fears over Lucy. What did he have to lose? They couldn’t travel until light broke anyway.
But he knew exactly what he had to lose. It had been a long time since he’d used drink as a means to escape, and his exhausted, susceptible state made it especially important to steer clear of the temptation. But a temptation it remained. He glanced up toward Amelia’s window. Indeed, it was not the only temptation.
After entering the inn’s main door, Graham climbed the stairs with his bag. The key weighed heavy in his pocket, and he fumbled in the dark to unlock the door. A stale stench assaulted him. He kicked the door closed with his foot and leaned against it to turn the lock. The room was identical to Amelia and Miss Hammond’s. Its simplicity did not bother him. He’d slept in much worse. But he couldn’t help but wonder how Amelia, a woman used to the finest surroundings, was faring.
Graham hung his coat and hat on the hook before moving to stoke the fire. It was a cold night, made colder by the dampness clinging to his coat, and he leaned in to let the flames warm his face and chest.
Amelia was so close. Just a floor below. Was she asleep? So much had transpired since their argument after the dinner party. With his concern for Lucy, he’d had little time to give it thought. But now, in complete solitude and relative quiet, he allowed himself to recount her words.
An arrangement, she had called it, reminding him that her interest was in Lucy, nothing more. He rubbed his arm as if to rub away the memory of what her touch had felt like when she had clung to him. He wasn’t sure he could believe her words, for her expression had told him something completely different.
Amelia was a strong woman. Indeed, he’d underestimated her again and again. At every turn they’d taken in these few short weeks, she’d proven loyal, resolute, and resourceful as well as beautiful. And she loved Lucy like the child was her own. Could a man hope for a better companion?
Tomorrow would have been their wedding day. In the days and nights since he’d agreed to marry Amelia, he’d come to believe it was a good idea. But something more had developed during the course of their interactions. His concern for her had deepened. His regard for her had broadened, his affection intensified. He no longer regarded her as a woman using him as a means to an end. She was a person he cared about, and she was slowly but surely becoming the woman he loved.
Amelia had awakened something in him. Denying that reality did not make it any less true. But was it right to love again so soon after Katherine’s death—or to marry another woman and promptly leave her as he had left Katherine? Guilt, swift and sure, swept its familiar pall over him. How long would he fight this battle between the past and his future?
He stood abruptly, realizing he could no longer afford the luxury of regret. Time was short. He had work to do. And a good captain always kept his priorities straight.
Priority one: Retrieve Lucy at any cost. Priority two: Make Amelia want to marry him, for more than just Lucy’s sake. Because the longer this intricate dance continued, the more certain he became: Amelia Barrett needed to become Amelia Sterling.
He removed his waistcoat and slung it over the back of the chair. In a bag next to the fireplace were the clean linens that Amelia insisted they bring. Looking down at the rumpled bed, he was grateful for her insistence. He folded the fresh-smelling pillow under his head, stretched out on the smooth sheet, and covered himself with the wool blanket. He stared into the fire. It had been awhile since a prayer passed his lips, but he couldn’t help the one that came upon him instinctively.
Dear Father, I don’t deserve Lucy, and I don’t deserve Amelia. But if it be your will, deliver them both to me.
Amelia had no idea if twenty minutes or two hours had passed. She lay on the lumpy bed, trying to ignore the straw poking through the rough canvas, and curled close against Jane in an attempt to keep warm. The tattered curtains hanging at the window blocked light from the lanterns in the courtyard below, but they did little to suppress the raucous sounds coming from the pub next door. Somehow she’d managed to sleep in the carriage despite the rough roads and wild winds. Now, when sleep should arrive, it refused to come.
She looked over at Jane, whose slender form sank into the mattress. The fire illuminated the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders under their brought-from-home blankets. As softly as she could, Amelia pushed herself from the bed and stood.
The pitiful fire did little to fight the chill in the room. Shivering, she reached for her cape, pulled it from the hook, and drew it tightly around her shoulders. With soft steps she inched close to the fire grate and poked futilely at the coals. Giving up, she sat on the rough wood floor, tucked her knees to her chest, and leaned her head on them, her mind, as ever, on Lucy.
Where was she tonight? What had happened to her? Possibility after possibility commandeered Amelia’s mind, each scenario more terrifying than the last. She reviewed everything she knew, trying to figure out who could be responsible.
William Sterling had been angry with the captain, and he was known as a drinker and a gambler. According to what she overheard at the Hammonds’, he was in debt and short of funds. But surely the man would not kidnap his own niece.
Would he?
Then there was Edward. Could he be guilty of such a cruel, devious act? Until recently, she would not have thought it possible. Now she was not so sure. But Edward had been present for the entire episode, even assisting with the search efforts.
And then, she had to acknowledge, there was an entire world she knew little about. Graham’s world. A mysterious world of ships and warfare. Could he have enemies? Could there be others wishing to do the Sterlings harm?
Footsteps from the room above them drew Amelia’s attention. Graham’s room. Heavy boots paced from one end of the room to the other and back again. She’d been so engrossed in her own pain, concerned with her own plans, that she had not stopped to consider how he must feel. Her own pain at losing Katherine was great, and her fear of losing Lucy was intense. But he was Katherine’s husband, Lucy’s father. Back and forth he paced. He was so close, only a few wooden planks above her.
A rustling from the bed drew Amelia from her reverie. “What are you doing?”
Amelia sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to wake you. I was cold.”
Jane sat up and swung her legs over the side of the low bed. “This has to be the draftiest room I ever set foot in. Thank heavens we shall only be here one night.” She reached down to pull on her slippers.
“I hope Lucy and Mrs. Dunne are in a better place than this. I cannot bear the thought of—”
As the footsteps passed directly overhead, Amelia stopped talking, and Jane looked up at the ceiling. “Sounds as if sleep is eluding someone else of our acquaintance.” She fetched her own cloak from the peg and joined Amelia at the fire. “I must say, I believe I have misjudged Captain Sterling.”
Amelia started at the abrupt change of conversation. “Why would you say that?”
“His behavior has been selfless. The manner in which he has handled this entire situation has impressed me.” Jane settled down next to Amelia, a mischievous smile on her lips. “He appears to be quite taken with you, my dear.”
Amelia tried the poker again. “We both care for Lucy, but you must not think there is anything else to the relationship between myself and Captain Sterling. We simply have an arrangement.”
“Oh, I am not so sure about that.”
“It is true that I have a very large fortune—or I will once I marry. No doubt the captain finds that attractive as well.”
“Most men would, yes. But I believe that the captain may need you as much as you need him. For reasons other than money.”
Amelia looked away from Jane to hide her quivering lip. “I do not need Captain Sterling. I need his name.”
Jane hesitated and reached for Amelia’s hand. “What is it, my dear, that frightens
you so?”
Amelia pulled back her hand. She had no answer. Or rather, she had too many answers. Too many fears. She feared never having a family of her own. Needing someone and not being needed in return. Being taken advantage of because of her wealth. Loving intensely, only to have that person snatched away . . . again. Having to live her whole life as she had lived so many early years—with a broken, empty heart.
She couldn’t tell Jane all that. She could barely admit it to herself. So she said, “The only thing that frightens me is losing Lucy. I cannot lose another person I love, Jane.”
Jane’s nod was thoughtful. “Fear takes so many forms. I remember back when I was still a new wife—new in Darbury too. I was so lonely in those days. I’d only known Mr. Hammond a few weeks prior to our marriage, and our new parish was far from my family in Bristol. I was eager to become a mother, thinking a baby would help me be less lonely. I prayed daily for a child. Fervently, like Hannah in the Bible.”
Amelia pulled her cape closer around her. “But you never had children, did you?”
“No. And eventually I would come to terms with that. But in those early years, the fear that I would never have a child consumed me. I pulled away from Mr. Hammond and others who loved me. I could think of nothing but my own sorrow and my fear that my life would not turn out as I had imagined. It was a dark time, Amelia. I wasted so much of my youth wishing for things to be different, unable to accept the role God had given me to fulfill.”
“So how did you find peace with it?” Amelia’s voice did not sound like her own.
“When I finally was able to accept that God had a plan for my life, that his way is best, I began to see the world in a different light.” A smile transformed Jane’s face. “And then he gave me you. You became the daughter I never had. The Lord has blessed me in so many other ways as well. But I lost so many blessings while confined in the prison of my fear.”