The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  She let out a sordid chuckle and swiped a tear from her cheek. Who did she think she was? Women like her didn’t run orphanages. Only decent, virtuous women like her sister Grace were entrusted with the care of innocent children.

  Peering through the salt-encrusted stains on the window, Hope watched as everything on the tiny island twisted and distorted like some maniacal nightmare—just like her life. How had she ended up in this place? Where had things gone so drastically wrong? She had thrown herself into the arms of a man, given herself away in the hope he would love her and marry her. And her wanton, foolish behavior had nearly cost her everything. But now she had a second chance. She would strive to improve herself—to become a true virtuous lady, strong and brave like her sister Faith, and honest and pure like her sister Grace. Then she would capture the heart of a true gentleman, and then, maybe then, this agonizing emptiness within her would be filled.

  The door swung open, and in walked a tall girl in a plain cotton gown, valise in hand. When she saw Hope, her face lit with a huge smile. “Oh, forgive me for intruding.” She glanced around the room. “I believe I am staying in this cabin, too. I am Abigail Sheldon.” She placed her things on the middle cot and untied the ribbon beneath her chin before removing her bonnet.

  “Hope Westcott.” Hope returned her smile.

  Hair the color of chestnuts spilled from Miss Sheldon’s pins. “’Tis windy aboard ship.” She attempted to tuck the loose strands back in place. Sparkling hazel eyes reached out to Hope with more clarity and innocence than she had seen in a long while. A cheerful peace cascaded around the young girl like a refreshing waterfall, and Hope liked her immediately.

  “I suppose we are the only two unattached females aboard,” Miss Sheldon said as the ship swayed, forcing her to hold onto a beam for support.

  “Indeed? I hadn’t realized.” Hope found it surprising she wasn’t the only lone woman. Most ladies wouldn’t dare travel unescorted, unless they were the type who entertained men for profit.

  The snap of canvas and the pounding of sailors’ feet above deck filled the room. They would soon set sail, and Hope would once again be at sea. Only this time, she sailed home to the safety of her sisters’ arms instead of into an unknown tempest. This time, she sailed farther away from Lord Falkland—Arthur—instead of traveling to a wedding she realized now would be played out only in her dreams.

  He sold me as a slave. She could not deny the truth blaring like a trumpet through her mind, but the sound had not fully penetrated the wall around her heart. She could not allow it. Not yet. For she feared it would drive her utterly mad.

  “Miss Westcott. Miss Westcott.”

  Hope gazed at the young girl smiling down at her. “Forgive me. My thoughts were elsewhere.”

  “I was saying that I believe the only other woman aboard is a Mrs. Hendr—”

  Instantly the door opened and the modishly dressed lady Hope had seen earlier on deck entered the room, a small girl, no more than six years old, in tow.

  “Ah, there she is. I was just telling Miss Westcott we are the only three women aboard. Well, four, if you count your daughter.” Miss Sheldon knelt and smiled at the girl clinging to her mother’s dress. Red curls spiraled from beneath a straw bonnet, and wide blue eyes glanced their way before she snuggled into a fold of her mother’s skirt.

  The poor thing looked petrified, and Hope longed to scoop her into her arms and reassure her all would be well.

  The woman waved her silk fan about her face and sighed. “I wanted to stay with my husband, but the captain doesn’t permit couples together on the ship, though I cannot imagine why, and now Miss Elise and I must lodge with two perfect strangers.” Her blue eyes widened as her gaze flicked between Hope and Miss Sheldon. “Oh, do forgive me. I am quite distraught. I’m not good at traveling. Elise has not been away from home, and I fear she’s caught one of those hideous tropical fevers. Can you feel her skin? Does she feel warm to you?” She pushed the hesitant girl closer to Miss Sheldon and closed the door behind her.

  Hope’s head spun with the woman’s constant chattering, but aside from her unbridled tongue, she was quite lovely. Close to Hope’s age, if not a few years older, she carried herself with a lofty urbanity expected of her station. Her flawless creamy skin was crowned with a fashionable coiffeur of hair the color of mahogany. A crimson overgown sat graciously upon her exquisitely laced bodice, which ended in a trim of flowered embroidery. The young girl, dressed no less stylishly, allowed Miss Sheldon to touch her face.

  “Nay, Mrs. Hendrick. She feels quite healthy to me.”

  “My goodness, thank you, but I am sure she is not well. Come, Elise, you must rest.” The mother assisted her daughter in taking off her shoes and helped her climb onto a cot. “You can never be too careful.” Plopping beside the child, she waved her fan about her as if she could swat away the heat and the foul smell saturating the cabin.

  “Forgive me, I am Mrs. Hendrick, and this is Miss Elise Hendrick.” She eased a lock of her daughter’s hair from her brow, and the girl smiled up at her mother, then uttered a hushed “Pleased to meet you” in their direction.

  “Abigail Sheldon.” Miss Sheldon gave a quick curtsy.

  Hope nodded at Mrs. Hendrick. “Hope Westcott.”

  “Well, I suppose ’tis good to have female companionship aboard this vessel, especially with so many unseemly men on board. I mean”—Mrs. Hendrick leaned toward them as if she had a grand secret to share—“you would not believe the way I was ogled over when I first arrived. Upon my word, it was most frightening, but at least I have a husband to watch over me.” She huffed and eyed the door. “Where is that man with our things? Faith, but ’tis hot in here, and so small. How shall we manage? I cannot believe William has allowed me to suffer so.”

  “I’m sure we will all get along splendidly.” Miss Sheldon brushed the feathery strands of hair from her forehead and gave Mrs. Hendrick a look of confidence.

  Hope felt none of the same assurance. The woman had naught to complain about. They all suffered under the same conditions. At least Mrs. Hendrick had a husband, a child, and obviously plenty of wealth. Hope had nothing but the dress on her back and her torn chemise and stained corset beneath it. She had lost everything: her dignity, her reputation—and her heart.

  “ All by your own doing.” The gentle voice eased over Hope’s conscience as her throat burned with sorrow. It was true. She deserved her fate.

  A loud crack sounded from above, and the ship lurched. At last they were departing this uncivilized island.

  Mrs. Hendrick regarded both Miss Sheldon and Hope with a curious eye. “How did you ladies come to be traveling alone?”

  Miss Sheldon wrung her hands together and stepped to the door before turning to face them. Her eyes moistened and she seemed to be having trouble speaking. “My parents were killed recently,” she blurted out in a strained voice.

  “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Hendrick dashed to her and grabbed her hands.

  Hope swallowed and thought of her own mother—of happier times, of feeling protected, loved, and cherished—feelings long since buried beneath the soil of Portsmouth, along with her mother. “I, too, lost my mother.”

  Miss Sheldon whisked a tear from her cheek and smiled. “Then you understand.”

  Plucking a handkerchief from her pocket, Mrs. Hendrick handed it to Miss Sheldon. “If I may be so bold, what happened to them?”

  “They were killed in a slave uprising in Antigua last month.” Miss Sheldon bowed her head.

  “Oh my. How horrible.” Mrs. Hendrick placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “What was your family doing on such a savage island?”

  “My parents were missionaries with the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts,” Miss Sheldon managed to utter between sobs.

  Mrs. Hendrick’s face contorted. “Indeed. How nice.” Releasing Miss Sheldon, she took a step back. “Have you no other relations? Are you all alone?”

  �
��Nay, ’tis only me left.” Miss Sheldon accepted the handkerchief Mrs. Hendrick offered and dabbed her cheeks, where despite the sorrow etching slick trails down her skin, a glow still emanated. “Me and God, that is.”

  Mrs. Hendrick patted her stylish coiffeur and sat back down beside her daughter, who had lain down and closed her eyes.

  Hope sighed. She had hoped she and Miss Sheldon could become friends, but once the pious girl discovered Hope’s marred past, she would most likely have nothing to do with her.

  The brig groaned and creaked over the rising swells as it no doubt made its way out onto the open sea. Placing her hand over her stomach, Mrs. Hendrick directed her curiosity upon Hope. “And you, Miss Westcott?”

  Hope flattened her lips and grabbed a lock of her hair. Her story was as far removed from Miss Sheldon’s as a bishop’s from a trollop’s, and she knew the telling of it would bring her neither credit nor sympathy from these two particular women. “I shall not bore you with the tale, Mrs. Hendrick. Suffice it to say I am on my way home to Charles Towne where my family awaits me.”

  “But a young lady traveling alone? Are you not afraid?”

  “There is a gentleman who travels with me. He is a member of the crew.”

  “A relation?”

  Though tempted to lie, Hope knew Mr. Mason would not confirm her deceit. But she so dearly wanted these ladies to like her, to approve of her, befriend her. She could use a friend right now, someone who would understand the pain of a broken heart. “Merely an acquaintance who rescued me in a great time of need.” She braced herself for the sanctimonious looks of disapproval.

  “How romantic.” Miss Sheldon sniffed and offered Hope a faint smile.

  “I assure you it is not.” Hope gazed out the tiny window, where all she could see from her bunk was clear blue sky.

  “’Tis most unseemly.” Mrs. Hendrick gave a ladylike snort and stared at Hope as if she were naught but an annoying rodent—the same look Hope had received a thousand times from the proper ladies of Charles Towne, a look that made her feel like manure on the street, fit only to be trampled upon.

  She supposed she deserved no better.

  Averting her gaze before they saw the moisture fill her eyes, Hope knew it would do no good to try to defend herself to this woman. She had tried before with Mrs. Hendrick’s type and never gotten anywhere. Once these so-called genteel ladies made up their minds about a woman’s virtue, nothing would dissuade them.

  Hope lay down on the bed with a clunk, giving up her dream to finally have a friend. She never seemed to measure up in other women’s eyes. Either they were jealous of her or they thought her too crude or too wanton or too far beneath them. The scorching looks and disdainful attitudes they shot her way never missed their mark as they might suppose. She felt every one of them like a sharp blade in her heart.

  Men were a different sort of animal. Hope rarely had problems befriending men. They adored her, they lavished gifts upon her, they made her feel special. And besides, they were far more interesting than most women she knew, save for her sister Faith.

  Hope squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shut out the world around her as easily, or at least the two women in her cabin. Or should she? Perhaps stowed away in quarters no bigger than a necessary room with two constant reminders of her inadequacies was indeed a fitting punishment. One she could make the best of. She could learn from these women. Learn how a proper lady behaves. Start afresh and prove to everyone on this ship that she was as virtuous as any true lady.

  Excitement jolted through her, and she sat up. No one knew her past here. She could change—she would change. And when she returned to Charles Towne, she would prove her new character to everyone—first to her sisters and then to those who had shunned her. Then, maybe then, she could catch the heart of a gentleman, open up an orphanage, and fulfill her life’s dream.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Miss Westcott, you are looking quite lovely this evening.” Captain Conway’s gaze took in Hope as if she were a sweetmeat. With a flip of his coattails, he took his seat at the head of the table laden with more food than Hope had seen since she had begun her foolish escapade aboard Falkland’s ship nigh on two weeks ago. A steaming platter of roast pork perched in the center between two flickering candles. Bowls of plantains, mangos, rice, corn, and biscuits spread across the wooden table, their sweet and spicy scents rising to join in a melodious aroma. Hope’s stomach lurched in anticipation.

  “Why, thank you, Captain.” She gave him a curt smile but looked away, not wanting to encourage his attentions. Circling the table, Nathaniel sat across from her, a scowl on his face.

  When he’d come to escort her and Miss Sheldon to the captain’s quarters for dinner, Hope had been elated—on one account to be freed from the stifling cabin and on another because her stomach had been growling like a wild beast all afternoon. But it was the pleasant way her heart leapt when she had opened the door to see Nathaniel’s handsome face that gave her pause.

  Pushing aside the uncomfortable reaction, she’d happily taken his arm, while Miss Sheldon clutched the other, and he had escorted them both to dinner as if they were going to a ball.

  “Thank you for the invitation, Captain.” She felt Mr. Keese’s eyes upon her from his seat to her right, but placing her hands in her lap, she ignored him. “Surely you do not feast like this every night?”

  Captain Conway fingered his pointed gray beard. “Nay, miss, especially when we’ve been long out to sea.” Pockmarks marred his sunblistered skin that looked as thick as a cowhide, and although the gray hair strewn throughout his head told a tale of a hard life at sea, his lively bronze-colored eyes revealed a much younger man within.

  Over his shoulder, through the stern window, Hope noticed the sun sinking wearily behind the ebony horizon, waving glorious ribbons of crimson, gold, and copper onto the choppy sea in its evening farewell.

  A pudgy, well-dressed man burst into the room, grumbling his apologies, and took a seat to the right of the captain.

  “Ah, now that we are all here,” the captain announced, “may I introduce Mr. Herbert Russell.” He gestured toward the man, who nodded with a grunt. “And beside him, Major Harold Paine.”

  The stiff man, dressed in a red military coat crossed with a white baldric, slid a finger over his thin mustache and narrowed his eyes over the guests.

  “Then, Mr. Mason, my new navigator.” Nathaniel gave a cursory glance around the table before his gaze locked upon Hope’s and remained there. An emotion she could not determine brewed within them, and she squirmed beneath his perusal.

  The captain continued. “Miss Abigail Sheldon, I believe?”

  “Yes, Captain.” Miss Sheldon smiled.

  Turning in his chair, Captain Conway nodded to the dashing man at his left. “Mr. William Hendrick.” Hope leaned forward to study Mrs. Hendrick’s husband, the man she’d seen on deck earlier. Still attired in his stylish garb, he barely acknowledged the introduction, nor anyone else in the room for that matter, as he poured wine into his glass from a pewter decanter.

  “Beside him, Mr. Gavin Keese,” the captain continued. “My second mate on this journey.” Mr. Keese nodded toward everyone then grinned at Hope, a sparkle in his eye.

  “And finally, the lovely Miss Hope Westcott.”

  Hope smiled as sweetly as she could at all the guests, searching for some kindness, some approval in their eyes. Back in Charles Towne, her inappropriate deeds and those of her sister Faith had put a stain on their family’s reputation. But here among these strangers, Hope could start anew. And what better way than with a military officer, a captain, and two wealthy businessmen—obviously gentlemen all. She longed to be treated like a lady, not like a stained handkerchief to be used and tossed aside. Not like Falkland had treated her.

  “A fine spread, Captain.” Mr. Russell rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming as he examined the banquet.

  “For our first night at sea, and with such important guests, I could
think of no better way to start our journey.” Captain Conway poured wine into his glass. “Besides, ’twould be a crime indeed to have two such lovely ladies on board and not enjoy their beauty.”

  A red hue crept up Miss Sheldon’s face as the captain shifted his eyes her way.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Keese agreed.

  “Speaking of beauty, where is your wife, Mr. Hendrick?” the captain asked the modish man on his left.

  “She is not well.” He sipped his drink. “You know how women cannot handle the sea.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of it.”

  Hope bit her lip. Cannot handle the sea, indeed. She wanted to correct him—to inform him that if he tore his eyes from his drink, he might see two healthy women seated at the table with him, but she thought better of it. No sense in stirring up trouble, especially for poor Mrs. Hendrick. Hope had left her casting her accounts into her chamber pot, and although Miss Sheldon had wanted to stay and care for her, Mrs. Hendrick would have none of it. Nor would she allow Hope to take Miss Elise to dinner.

  The ship bucked over a wave. Creaks and groans filled the room, and plates shifted on the table. Hope gasped, and Mr. Keese placed his hand on hers beneath the table and winked. The warmth of his skin and his playful dalliance lifted Hope’s spirits, and she longed to encourage his affections—if only to ease the agony wrenching at her heart. Instead, she snatched her hand from beneath his and looked away.

  “Shall we begin?” The captain reached for a plate of steaming rice.

  “Should we not bless the food, Captain?” Miss Sheldon asked.

  Nathaniel’s stiff lips finally cracked in a smile as he nodded approvingly at Miss Sheldon. They exchanged a glance that sent uncomfortable needles prickling across Hope’s chest, befuddling her mind as to the cause. She took a sip of wine.

  “Of course. Of course.” The captain blew out a snort and stared at his plate. “God in heaven, bless this meal and keep us safe on our journey. Amen.” He said the prayer with such rapidity, it seemed he feared the food would vanish before he finished.