“A dandy?”
“Yes. That the word. Dandy.”
“Does this man have any distinguishing marks?” “What mean that long word?” “Distinguishing?”
Sing Hee nodded.
“It means a special mark, or different mark, that makes it easy to identify or recognize a person, such as a scar or a mole.”
“A black spot under right eye. I not know English for the word.”
“Does the word ‘mole” sound right?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“In that case, I will speak with the Captain later about your concerns. But please do not be afraid of the Captain. He will help all three of us get to where we need to be. I promise. Let’s go back down to the galley before they come up after us.”
The Captain and Dr. Miller had lit their cigars, and a smoky aroma filled the stuffy room.
Not waiting for Lydia and Sing Hee to take a seat at the table, the Captain motioned to Sing Hee, “Please sit down. I have some questions for you, too.”
Lydia nodded at Sing Hee and smiled to reassure him. “It is all right. Tell the Captain your story.”
He was more brief than Pakelekia. His story did not last more than five minutes, due to the language issue.
He had been captured when he was twelve years old while his family was visiting relatives in Kowloon. He and his mother became separated in the marketplace, and a man offered to lift Sing Hee up onto his shoulders so he could look for his mother. Sing Hee was frightened and anxious to find her, so he accepted the man’s offer. For the first minute or so, the man walked around the marketplace. Sing Hee did not pay attention to where the man was going – which was down toward the docks. When he finally realized what was happening, he struggled to get off the man’s shoulders, but the man twisted Sing Hee’s ankles sharply every time he tried to jump down. The man stepped into a smoke-filled business, and once inside, the man clubbed Sing Hee on the side of his head. That knocked him out, and the next thing Sing Hee knew he was on a ship in the middle of the ocean. He was not let off the ship or out of his small dark room until the ship arrived in San Francisco. Lord Darke promptly bought him, and he had been Lord Darke’s slave ever since. That was five, maybe even six years ago.
“Who is Lord Darke?” asked Ian.
Once again, Sing Hee’s eyes darted in Lydia’s direction.
“Please. Tell him everything you know. That man is evil – making a living out of the buying and selling of human beings. Maybe the Captain can do something about him.”
Sing Hee explained how Lord Darke’s accent was very similar to the Captain’s and he described the man’s height and weight.
“Was there anything else special about his appearance?” asked the Captain.
“Missy Lydia ask me same question. I give you same answer. Lord Darke have black spot, a mole, on right cheek, right under eye. That is all.”
***
Ian froze in his chair. He thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “No, it could not be him,” he muttered to himself.
“Could not be what?” piped up Lydia.
“Aw, it is nothing,” said the Ian.
“No, tell us what you are thinking.”
Ian sat up. “Well, my brother-in-law, Percy McDougal, has a mole on his right cheek right under his eye, and he certainly speaks with a Scottish brogue. But I cannot think of any reason he would involve himself in the trade of human slavery. After all, he took over my parents’ estate … unless … he used up all the funds and figured out a way to access he funds held in trust for Annie and squandered that money too.” He sat back with a frown on his face and pondered the possibilities.
Pakelekia’s eyelids began to droop, as did Dr. Miller’s.
“It is late,” said Lydia. “Perhaps we should all retire for the evening, get a good night’s rest, and then in the morning we can plan what we do or do not do from here. I, for one, would like to visit Lord and Lady Saxonby tomorrow, if at all possible. She searched Ian’s eyes for some sort of reaction and saw none.
Thirty minutes later, she and Ian walked back into his cabin. It felt like coming home to Lydia – she was warm, relaxed, and safe.
To ward off the chill in the San Francisco evening air, Ian built a small fire in the wood-burning stove. Lydia sat on the edge of the bunk and watched him.
“Lydia”, Ian began. “Would you mind telling me why you ran off at the ball?” “It does not really matter anymore, Ian. I am here and safe – and with any luck at all, I will be off your hands come tomorrow after I meet with Lord and Lady Saxonby.”
“What kind of an idiotic statement is that? … ‘Be off my hands.’ What are ye trying to say, lass?”
Lydia felt her temper start to rise and her voice get louder. “You know very well what I am talking about. I have been nothing but trouble for you since you rescued me. You will soon be rid of me … the problem.”
“I canna believe you’d say that. I am not anxious to be rid of you at all.”
“You’re not?” “Nay. I love you, lass. I don’t ever want you to leave me.”
“What did you say?”
Slowly and clearly Ian reiterated, “Lydia, I love you. I never want you away from me again.”
He frowned as he watched Lydia’s changing facial expressions. “You do feel something for me, don’t you?” “Something? Something? Ian, I have loved you since Cape Horn. I thought you did not have any feelings for me, and that was why you paid me no attention at the ball. You never even asked me for a dance.”
“A dance? You must be joking. Do you remember how prickly you were in the carriage? I tried to explain how my evening would be taken up with my official duties at the ball.”
“Ian, you were flirting with all those young women! You never even looked in my direction. What was I supposed to think?”
“You were supposed to think I was carrying out my duties to the Queen. I am a man. When I have a job to do, it is where my concentration is. It is how men are. Did I flirt with those women? Of course I did. I am human, and frankly, they expected me to flirt with them. That was part of the job. But flirting had and has no reflection on my love for you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you understand?”
Lydia paused to absorb his words.
“Ian, I thought you considered me a loose woman because we made love. I came to believe you could never love me. I feared I had become the very type of woman my father had warned me about. How could you ever love me?”
“The better question is how could I not love you? Yes, you were and are still a little naïve, but you have a pure heart and only want to do the right thing. You are the type of woman a man dreams about. You are passionate and full of spunk. I love you with all my heart.
“Ian, you are the man of my dreams.”
His face flushed red, and he grinned from ear to ear.
“I want only to be free to discover life and make my own choices, where that is appropriate.”
He thought for a few seconds. “I understand. But do you think you might consult me before making any big decisions – like running off without talking to me?” Lydia closed the distance between Ian and herself in about two seconds and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ian, I love you so much.”
He looked down at her upturned face and covered her mouth with his own as he pulled her close.
They separated, yet still held each other tightly. Ian asked, “Will ye marry me, Lydia? Please marry me and be my wife, and most importantly, be my partner in life?”
“Will you still allow me some freedoms?”
Ian laughed. “It is not as though I could stop you. Of course, you will be allowed your freedom. In fact, as long as we discuss our choices, I look forward to your decision-making and input as my better half. Lydia, I am not looking for a maid or a servant. I can hire that. I want a partner, a wife, someone to share my life with me – as an equal. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes, yes! I will ma
rry you,” squeaked Lydia between soft sobs of utter happiness.
“Tomorrow I will look for a minister to marry us. Right away is fine with you, is it not?”
“Yes. Right away is just fine with me,” she laughed.
“Then I propose that we visit Lord and Lady Saxonby tomorrow to let them know even though you’ve finally arrived safely, you will not be accepting the position as governess. After all, you will be getting married on … on … how about the day after tomorrow? That way, we will have time to find you a wedding dress and some other clothing … but you will not be wearing the clothing often,” he chuckled.
She giggled again. She felt like dancing. So much happiness – more than she had ever dreamed possible.
“Yes, the day after tomorrow would be perfect. Our wedding day will be the fifteenth of August. I like that.”
The tension of the physical proximity to one another that had been building over the last couple of months sought its release in their arms as they held onto each other. It was Ian who pulled away first.
“Lydia, the next time I make love to you, I want you to be my wife. I can wait two days, if you can.”
“Thank you, Ian, for your considerateness, because I agree. While I may have disregarded my father’s teachings about marriage and intimacy earlier, I will feel better knowing that our intimacy, after we marry, will have God’s blessing. Parts of me will always be a little traditional, I guess.”
Each rolled to their side of the small bunk and fell into a restful, happy sleep.
The next morning the San Francisco fog lifted early and the sun shone brightly. Lydia stirred and gradually awoke with a smile on her face. Ian lay snoring softly beside her.
She slid her legs off the edge of the mattress.
Ian’s hand firmly grabbed her shoulders. “And where do you think you’re going my love?” “To use the chamber pot – and then to get dressed. We have a lot to do today, and it takes me longer than you to get ready. Also, I wanted to ask Pakelekia to be my maid of honor, if it is all right with you.”
“That is a grand idea. I think I will ask the Dr. Miller to be my best man.”
“Perfect.”
Thirty minutes later Lydia knocked on Pakelekia’s door. “Pakelekia, wake up. I have to speak with you.”
The elegant woman answered the door, wrapped only in a sheet from her bunk.
“Yes, Lydia. What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No. In fact, things could not be more right. Ian asked me to marry him, and I have accepted. Will you be my maid-of-honor?”
Pakelekia smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to realize that you were and are in love with him. After seeing him with you last night, I knew that he was in love with you. Lydia, it would be my honor to be your maid-of-honor.”
Lydia and Pakelekia hugged one another.
“As soon as Ian and I return from our visit to the Lord and Lady Saxonby, we will come back here and then all three of us can go to a modiste for dresses for you and me.”
“I will see you then. Aloha,” said Pakelekia.
Lydia almost ran back to the Ian’s cabin.
CHAPTER 26
Ian and Lydia took a hack to the residence of Lord and Lady Saxonby. The exquisite home was stately picture of elegance and sat on a high hill overlooking the San Francisco Bay. White pillars graced the portico, and hand-etched egrets in the glass panels of the huge oak front doors of the house welcomed guests. A floral explosion surrounded the walkways.
Ian rapped on the door, and a meticulously groomed butler, dressed in black tails and a starched white shirt with bow tie, answered promptly. “May I help you, sir?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Ian. “We are here to see Lord and Lady Saxonby. I believe they were expecting Miss Holcomb’s arrival about three months ago, via ship from England.”
The butler’s bushy eyebrows rose, “Do you mean Miss Lydia Holcomb?”
“Yes, this is she,” said Ian nudging Lydia forward.
“Come in. Come in! One moment. Please wait here while I summon his lordship and her ladyship.”
He indicated a room to the right of the entrance, a formal reception room. Lush oriental rugs had been placed over the black and white marble tiles laid out in a checkerboard design. Velvet draperies, half-opened, allowed just enough sunlight to enter the room to provide some warmth. The ceiling had been painted with detailed angelic designs in a pale blue sky which pulled the eye from one side of the room to the other. Plush, red velvet fabric covered several sofas and easy chairs placed around a large marble fireplace. In the middle of the room stood an elegant mahogany Steinway grand piano. Lydia and Ian walked in slowly, taking in all the grandeur of the room.
Excited, murmuring voices echoed in the hallway off the reception room.
“Is it really possible?” asked a woman’s English voice.
“We will see in a moment, my dear,” responded a male voice.
Both the man and woman who entered into the reception room were quite stout. The woman was exceedingly well-endowed. In fact, as they both tried to enter the reception room door at the same time, they were momentarily stuck. They both laughed and managed to enter the room together, with their eyes focused on Lydia.
“Oh my word! It is Miss Lydia. Look at how much she resembles her mother, dear,” said the woman.
She reached out and hugged Lydia. “Miss Holcomb! We cannot believe you are truly alive. We thought you … you.”
“Died?” volunteered Lydia. “I understand. I, too, thought I was going to die – actually, on several occasions.”
“Where are my manners? Forgive me. I am Sacha Fairchild, Lady Saxonby, and this fine gentleman is my husband, William Fairchild, Lord Saxonby.”
Lydia curtseyed and Ian bowed.
“There is no need for such formality here. We really do not care for it,” said William. “In fact, it is one of the reasons we opted for this position. Although we are both English to our toes, neither one of us cares for the typical British stuffiness. My great-grandfather was a scientist and claimed important areas in Africa for the Crown, thus he was awarded the title of Lord Saxonby. My title is no longer attached to any substantial lands, because I gifted them to the tenants who had worked the land for generations. We now have only the estate house and about ten acres left.
“Rather than participate in the politics the traditional way by joining the House of Lords, I chose to go into the field of diplomacy. Sacha and I find American attitudes quite refreshing. Nevertheless, at some point we must return to England for the benefit of our children. We realized we needed a proper English governess to school the children in the British curriculum and English speech. It would not do at all to have them made fun of because of an American accent. That is why we put the ad in the London Times”.
A young woman, dressed in gray with her hair pulled back in a proper bun at the nape of her neck, entered the reception room followed by a gaggle of three squealing children.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” she said directly to Lady Saxonby. The butler informed me I should search you out before I take the children over to the park for a bit of sunshine and fresh air.”
Lady Saxonby smiled as she turned to greet her children. “Thank you, Miss Smythe. Before you go out, I would like to introduce the children to our guests.”
“Of course, My Lady,” said the young woman. She bid the children to line up for the introductions.
Lady Saxonby pointed to the oldest one, a young man, and said, “This is Willy, our son. He is seven years old.” The young man made a slight bow, then stood quietly beside his father.
“Beside him are Katie and Linda, our twin daughters. They are five years old. May I also present their nanny, Miss Smythe.” The two little girls tripped over each other trying to bow the deepest. They collapsed into giggles while the nanny apologized and tried in vain to get them to be quiet and polite
Lydia and Ian acknowledged the children and Miss Smythe.
“Com
e children. It is time to go outside now,” said their nanny.
With as much noise, pushing, and shoving as when they entered the reception room, they all exited to the main hallway for their excursion to the park.
From the moment Lydia saw Miss Smythe enter the room with the children, she understood someone else now had the employment she had wanted so much. Mixed emotions tumbled around in her head.
Lady Saxonby seemed to read Lydia’s mind. “We are so sorry we were not able to hold the position for you Lydia. But then, we believed you had perished at Cape Horn. We could not believe our good fortune when some friends of ours decided to move back to England, and their governess wanted to stay in San Francisco rather than return to England. Miss Smythe came to us with extraordinary references, and the children do love her.”
“Oh no. Please do not apologize. Life has a way of working out for everyone. My life has certainly taken some strange twists and turns I never believed possible. I am happy for you and relieved for me. You see, Ian has asked me to marry him. I was concerned about how to break to you the news I would not be able to accept the position. I do regret I will not be able to spend time with your charming children, though. But then, who knows? Perhaps one day we will have children of our own.”
Ian chatted amiably with the Lord Saxonby while Lydia gathered her thoughts.
Then the importance of a comment made by Lady Saxonby hit her. She had mentioned how much Lydia resembled her mother. She must have met her mother!
“Excuse me, my Lady. You said earlier I resembled my mother. Have you seen her?”
“Dear me! I have not had a chance to tell you. Your mother was here about three months ago. A Captain David Adams accompanied her. He is the captain of the Wyndom Wydoh. She was extremely distraught, believing you had drowned at Cape Horn. She and the Captain planned to set sail the next day to return to England via the overland trek in Panama. The Captain felt certain they could find a ship in port to take them back to England. The Captain refused to leave your mother, so he appointed his First Mate to sail the Wyndom Wydoh around the Cape once the seasons changed in October or November, and he said he would join your mother on her sail back to England to ensure her safe arrival.”
The Emerald Tartan Page 22