Deborah Hale

by The Bride Ship

  Yet part of her was not sorry it had. Her kiss had roused Sir Robert from a deep and dangerous sleep, like the bewitched princess in one of her favorite nursery tales. But he had woken something in her, too. For all her frustrated longing, Jocelyn felt alive again in a way she had not since Ned’s death…and perhaps even before that.

  Their reception in Liverpool was everything Jocelyn had expected and hoped they would receive when they’d arrived in Halifax. This time their coming had been announced well in advance. There should be no unpleasant surprises and no unfortunate misunderstandings on either side.

  A number of smaller vessels sailed out to welcome the Aldebaran when it entered the harbor. They escorted it to the wharf, which looked to be thronged with an even larger crowd than had greeted the Hestia in Halifax.

  “Do you hear, Mrs. Finch?” cried Charlotte. “They are ringing the church bells for us!”

  “I expect the bells are meant to welcome the governor, my dear.” Jocelyn bustled among her charges, straightening the bow of a bonnet here, ordering a hanging petticoat hiked up there. “Now, you must all promise me faithfully that you will be on your best behavior. Heaven knows what sort of stories about us have reached here from Halifax. I do not want to give anyone ammunition for more tattle. Is that understood?”

  Perhaps remembering how Vita had been bundled off back to England, the girls responded with a subdued “Yes, ma’am.”

  They soon recovered their high spirits, however. Whatever reports had made their way down the South Shore about the bride ship, the local folk appeared inclined to believe only the favorable ones. Their welcome could not have been warmer.

  After a few brief addresses by leading citizens of the town and a general exchange of pleasantries, the governor’s party was treated to a fine dinner in the local assembly hall. The men who had submitted letters of introduction were presented to Jocelyn’s charges, then seated opposite them at several long tables to become better acquainted during the meal.

  Jocelyn was given a seat across the table from the governor, with the local magistrate’s wife on one side of her and the sister of a prominent local shipbuilder on the other. Over steaming bowls of chowder and plates of salmon in egg sauce, the men discussed colonial politics and business. Meanwhile the ladies chatted about matchmaking and all the social events they had planned for the governor’s visit.

  Engaged as she was in their conversation, Jocelyn still could not prevent herself from stealing several covert glances at Sir Robert. He really was a most well-favored gentleman, with his firm, angular jaw, well-shaped nose and frank, penetrating blue eyes. As for the way his broad shoulders filled out his splendid dress uniform—it gave new meaning to the customary address His Excellency.

  “…Don’t you agree, Mrs. Finch?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Jocelyn murmured, her attention upon the governor. “Most excellent.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The sharp tone of the magistrate’s wife roused Jocelyn from her blatant admiration of Sir Robert.

  It drew his attention to her. “Is there a problem, ladies?”

  “None at all.” Jocelyn felt like a child caught filching tarts from the pantry. She turned to her dining companion to avoid the governor’s perceptive scrutiny. “I was just thinking what an excellent welcome you have extended us. I fear it distracted me from what you were saying.”

  “A feeble jest, I’m afraid. I was wondering what you and Governor Kerr would do if all your young ladies lose their hearts here on the South Shore and you had no brides left to go with you to Yarmouth and Annapolis?”

  Jocelyn laughed as if it were the most amusing remark she’d heard in a great while. Across the table, Sir Robert and the other gentlemen chuckled, too.

  “I should be obliged to postpone the rest of my tour, naturally.” The governor broke apart a biscuit and spread half of it with fresh butter. “Otherwise I would risk inciting rebellion. And that would never do.”

  The rest of their stay in Liverpool passed in a hectic round of social functions. By the end of the first week, it was clear several serious matches were blossoming between Jocelyn’s charges and the bachelors of the South Shore. Before offers of marriage could be made or accepted, Jocelyn insisted each girl pay at least one chaperoned visit to the home of her suitor, to see what sort of life she could expect to lead after the wedding.

  “Marriage is not all parties and picnics, you know,” she warned the girls on more than one occasion. “I hope you will choose a husband for more than his engaging conversation and his dancing ability.”

  She was pleasantly surprised when Sir Robert asked to accompany her on these visits to the homes of ordinary fishermen and farmers.

  “There is more to governing a colony than sitting in council meetings and writing reports.” He echoed the tone he’d overheard her use to lecture the girls about marriage. “I want to see firsthand how my colonists live, especially the new settlers.”

  To her further surprise, Jocelyn found the governor’s presence helped ease the initial awkwardness of such visits. His sincere interest and forthright questions coaxed the men to talk about their present difficulties and their hopes for the future.

  Once the ice had been broken by his refreshing frankness, Jocelyn employed her subtle tact. “When we came in, I could not help notice what a fine view you have of the bay. Sir Robert, would you be so kind as to escort me for a better look?”

  The first time she’d asked, he gave her a mystified look and practically needed to be dragged from the house. He soon came to understand, however.

  “This is quite a pleasant view,” he announced on the fifth such occasion as he offered Jocelyn his arm. “I was amazed that you could keep a straight face, yesterday, when you asked for a better view of that swamp near Mr. Jacobson’s place.”

  “Marsh,” Jocelyn corrected him. “And I thought it looked very pleasant with the breeze rippling through the reeds. It reminded me of the fenlands in Norfolk where I grew up. You might not believe it, but I am a simple country lass at heart.”

  They passed a most enjoyable half hour, trading stories of her childhood on a great estate in eastern England and his in a small town on the Scottish border. Like everything else about them, their upbringings had been quite different. Why, then, did she feel such a growing bond with a man so little like her…and quite the opposite of her darling Ned?

  On the day before their departure from Liverpool, a rash of weddings took place at which Sir Robert was invited to give away the brides. Having little experience with nuptial ceremonies, he was not prepared for his emotions to be stirred so deeply.

  As he walked down the aisle of the small Methodist chapel early that evening with a radiant young lady on his arm, his throat tightened and a curious mixture of pride and wistfulness overwhelmed him. He managed to deliver the bride to her waiting groom and force out a gruff “I do” when the clergyman inquired who gave the girl in marriage. Then he retreated to a nearby pew where Jocelyn had saved a seat for him.

  Leaning toward him, she whispered, “You are getting good at this. With a bit more practice you will soon be an expert.”

  The teasing warmth in her voice coaxed a reluctant smile from him. It felt pleasing and proper to have her by his side while the Methodist preacher spoke about the sacred duties of marriage.

  For as long as he could recall, he’d intended never to wed. The army had been his destined career and, while he’d been willing to sacrifice his own life for King and country, he could not condemn a wife and children to the hard life his family had endured after his father’s death.

  With that resolution in mind, he’d taken care to avoid the company of women. Eventually he’d almost forgotten the reason and simply kept his distance from the fair sex as a matter of habit. Then Jocelyn Finch had marched down the gangway of the bride ship and into his life. He’d tried to keep his distance from her, but she had refused to let him. Gradually he discovered that he liked her best at the distance she was now—close by his
side.

  After the final wedding of the day, a large crowd gathered to celebrate at the home of Mr. Parker, a shipbuilder who had grown rich from privateering. That evening, the guests all congregated in the garden, which was his sister’s pride and joy.

  It was a fine warm night with enough of an ocean breeze to keep the mosquitos at bay. Tin lanterns sat at intervals on the low stone wall that enclosed the garden. They cast a flickering fairy light over the beds of flowers that perfumed the summer air. Even Sir Robert, the most practical and unfanciful of men, was not immune to the magical atmosphere that pervaded the place.

  Their host served up an excellent punch made from the finest Caribbean rum, sugar, oranges and lemons, all brought to Liverpool by his own small trading fleet. After several rounds of toasts to the various brides and grooms with that potent libation, Sir Robert felt more than usually pleased with everyone and everything around him.

  “May I have the honor of proposing one last salute?” he asked Mr. Parker.

  “By all means, Your Excellency, but do let me refill your cup first.” Parker helped him to a further generous measure of punch while a number of other guests also took the opportunity to procure refills.

  The company fell silent when Sir Robert raised his glass, until he could hear the distant whisper of ocean waves washing against the shore. “Tonight we have drunk to the health and felicity of all the newlyweds. Now I wish to propose a toast to the person responsible for making this happy occasion possible.”

  He turned toward the lady standing beside him—a lady who seemed to grow more attractive every time he looked at her. “I know it has not been an easy task bringing her charges across an ocean and watching over them as they seek worthy partners in a new, young land. Speaking for myself, I would gladly govern a dozen colonies rather than organize such a venture!”

  Chuckles of agreement and murmurs of approval rippled through the company.

  “Since she first came ashore in Halifax several weeks ago, I have watched her efforts with astonishment and admiration. There have been a few stumbling blocks in her path, and I freely admit to being one of the worst. But she has persevered against all obstacles with a commendable mixture of resolve and charm. Today we have seen the first fruits of her labors and we must acknowledge her success. If I am not mistaken, the years ahead will see a number of little girls in this community bearing the name…. Jocelyn.”

  He savored her name upon his tongue. He fancied it had the sweet, wild tang of fresh strawberries. “Please join me in a toast to Mrs. Jocelyn Finch and her continued success!”

  All around the garden, glasses clinked softly and hearty voices echoed the governor’s words.

  The voice of the lady herself was almost lost in the general acclaim. “I vow, Sir Robert, you are determined to make me blush!”

  “And what if I am?” An exhilarating sense of recklessness possessed him. “You look very pretty when you blush.”

  She laughed. “You, sir, have had too much punch!”

  Before he could contradict her, one of the brides appeared with her new husband in tow. “Governor Kerr is right, ma’am! We all owe you our thanks. And I thought I was being so clever intending to name our first daughter after you. No doubt she will have plenty of little playmates named Jocelyn, too!”

  “Indeed she will!” Another of the brides threw her arms around Mrs. Finch’s neck. “This has been the happiest day of my life and it never would have come about without you!”

  Soon Jocelyn was surrounded by several very emotional young women, embracing her and shedding happy tears.

  “You will all write to me?” She begged with a catch in her voice that touched Sir Robert. “Let me know how you are getting on? Send your letters care of Mrs. Beamish in London.”

  “Perhaps you will visit Liverpool again next year with another bride ship?” suggested one of the girls. “Then we can all be together again.”

  That notion appealed to Sir Robert, though the thought of Jocelyn going back to England made him drain his cup of punch rather more quickly than he meant to.

  He did not get another opportunity to talk with her until the party dispersed and she had marshaled her remaining charges to walk them back to the houses where they’d been billeted.

  “May I offer my services as an escort?” he asked. “You never know when the company of an old soldier might come in handy.”

  “You are not old!” She sounded vexed at the suggestion he might be. “But will it not take you out of your way?”

  For the past fortnight, he had been a guest of the magistrate, who lived less than a quarter of a mile from where they were standing.

  Sir Robert shrugged. “It is a pleasant night for a stroll in the moonlight…unless you have some objection to my company.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” She gave his arm a playful cuff. “I have always found your company most stimulating—even at first, when we didn’t get along.”

  By heaven, he would like to show her how stimulating his company could be! But it would take more than a little rum punch and the presence of an attractive woman to overthrow a lifetime of restraint and self-discipline.

  “Likewise.” He acknowledged her praise with a decorous bow. No one overhearing them would ever guess what a tempest brewed within him.

  “In that case, let us go.” She took his arm and they set off after the girls, who had already started on their way, engaged in animated chatter about all the weddings and the letters of introduction that had arrived the previous day from Yarmouth.

  “What a glorious evening to crown a happy day!” Jocelyn gave a sigh of satisfaction.

  “Did all the weddings remind you of your own?” More than once today Sir Robert had glimpsed a wistfulness in her eyes that made him ache to comfort her.

  “Hardly!” Her voice held a grating note of bitterness. “Ned could not spare the funds for a special license, and I feared my father would use his influence with the bishop to prevent us getting one. So we ran away to Scotland and had one of those ‘anvil weddings,’ which may sound terribly romantic, but aren’t. I am so happy the girls who got married today were able to exchange their vows in proper churches, surrounded by people who care about them.”

  Fearing he would only say the wrong thing if he tried, Sir Robert reached over and patted her hand as it nestled in the crook of his arm.

  “Not that I minded so very much at the time,” Jocelyn hastened to add. “At least I tried not to. As long as it meant Ned and I could be together, what did it signify where or how we wed? But later, and especially after…he was gone, I felt cheated somehow. I loved him so much, it should have been a cause for celebration. Eloping felt furtive and shameful.”

  “Your husband must have been a very fine man.” Sir Robert had great difficulty speaking those words. Envy for the late Captain Finch smoldered deep in his belly and no amount of shame could quench it.

  “Fine?” said Jocelyn. “That sounds so cold and impeccable. Heaven bless him, Ned was neither of those. He had a hasty temper and he was not always as prudent with our money as he might have been. But he had such a winning way about him, it was impossible to stay angry. Whenever he was around, it felt like a holiday. I’d had such a quiet upbringing, I found his high spirits and charm irresistible.”

  “I can imagine.” Indeed he could. What Jocelyn Finch had described sounded all too much like his feelings for her.

  As she continued to talk about her brief but happy marriage, the moonlit magic of the night mocked Sir Robert. How could a man so opposite in every way from her fascinating first husband ever hope to win her?

  How could he even persuade himself to try?

  Chapter Thirteen

  If she had loved Ned Finch as much as she claimed, why did she find herself so potently attracted to a man who was not like him in the least?

  Jocelyn stared out at the choppy waves of the Atlantic, her emotions as turbulent as the ocean. After departing from Liverpool on the morning tide, the Aldebaran
was now headed for Yarmouth, a thriving port on the westernmost tip of the colony. In the overcast sky above, a flock of seagulls glided and wheeled. Their shrill cries sounded like an accusing chorus. Why? Why? Why?

  Jocelyn had no answer to give them…or herself.

  Last night when she’d walked in the moonlight with Sir Robert, clinging to his arm, she had talked continuously about her late husband. But her thoughts and senses had been focused on the man by her side. His nearness brought her a feeling of exhilaration tempered with security. His restrained manner challenged her to rouse the unexpected passion she had glimpsed in him that morning at Prince’s Lodge.

  Perhaps that’s all he was to her—a challenge, the likes of which she had never been able to resist. And a reminder of everything she missed about having a man in her life.

  The sound of firm, brisk footsteps coming toward her drew Jocelyn’s attention. She tried not to blush when she saw the governor. She also tried to forget what he had said about her looking pretty when she blushed. Whatever could have prompted that remark…besides Mr. Parker’s rum punch?

  He showed no sign of thinking any such flattering nonsense this morning. “I have told the captain to take us as far as Seal Island today. Then we can continue on to Yarmouth tomorrow.”

  After the rough crossing she’d endured from England, Jocelyn did not relish the notion of spending the night aboard ship. “Seal Island? That sounds rather desolate. Is there no town where we could put in for the night, instead?”

  “None very near.” The governor shook his head, all solemn and businesslike. The flatterer and confidant of last night seemed to have disappeared with the dawn of a new day. “Besides, I want to see the island for myself. I’ve had a petition to fund a lighthouse there. Before I raise the matter in council, I would like to satisfy myself of the need.”