Threads of Faith

by Andrea Boeshaar

  He smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. “I guess that proves you’re no nun.”

  Julianna saw no humor in his remark. “God won’t have me now?” Disappointment dropped like an anvil inside of her.

  “From what I remember as a boy, God will always want you. But the convent is a different story altogether.” The captain walked around to the other side of his desk and sat down. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands and stared at them.

  Julianna slowly sank into the leather chair poised in front of his desk. Her gaze darted around the richly paneled room. Another solution. Dear God, but there had to be one! “Please don’t make me go with Jeremy. I beg of you.”

  He said nothing, appearing deep in thought.

  “If the convent is out of the question, what about a paying job? Surely someone in New York needs a maid. I could work off my passage.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “What?” Julianna didn’t think she’d heard him correctly.

  “I’m taking you with me.” His gaze finally met hers. “That will solve everything.”

  “But . . . but you’re marrying a countess.” Indignation brewed inside of her. “I’ll fling meself overboard before I’ll be your mistress! I love you. There. I said it. It’s true. But what you’re asking is far more than I’m willing to give.”

  Captain Sundberg held up a forestalling hand. “Did you hear me make such a request of you, Miss Wayland?”

  She squeezed her shoulders back at his cynical tone. “No. But just in case you’re thinking it—”

  “I am not. And I wonder if you really think so highly of me after all.”

  “I do. I swear I do. It’s just”—she rolled a shoulder—“you’re a man, so I’m sure that you can’t help certain things.”

  “Like being a complete rogue, I presume.”

  “Rogue might be too strong a word . . . sir.”

  The captain narrowed his gaze. “You’re one plucky female. I must be crazy.”

  Julianna decided to change her tone lest the captain have a change in heart—that is, if he’d thought up a suitable plan. “Will you tell me what you have in mind?”

  His features softened. “Let’s look at the globe over there in the corner.”

  She stood and followed him across the office to where a round, multicolored orb stood suspended by both ends in a gleaming brass fixture.

  The captain gave it a spin. “This is the world, perhaps as God sees it. The blue is the sea, brown is land. Here’s where we are right now.”

  She peered at where the captain pointed. “In the middle of the ocean.”

  “Sort of. Now, here’s London, from where we set sail, here’s New York, and here is . . . Wisconsin.”

  “Wisconsin.” It looked a long way from London.

  “If you agree, you may accompany me to Manitowoc, Wisconsin. If I know my mother, she’ll take you in without question. You can help her on the farm. She’s going to need extra hands with my father so gravely ill.” The captain released a long breath that carried a note of sadness. “Maybe he’s even dead by now, I don’t know. But in any case, you’ll be safe there, and you can rebuild your life. Start anew.”

  “On a farm?” Julianna considered it. “I’ve never worked on a farm, but I could learn.”

  “I have no doubt.” The captain folded his arms. “Now, then, you’ll need suitable attire. I’ll lend you the money and keep a tab, which will include your passage.”

  “Sounds more than fair. I’ll work hard. I promise.”

  “I know you will.”

  She saw him smile before he stared back at the colorful world.

  “I’ll have no qualms about leaving you in Manitowoc.”

  Leaving her . . . to return to New York and continue his sailing ventures at the helm of a shipping company. Leaving her to marry his countess.

  Julianna hadn’t dared to dream otherwise. Nevertheless, his offer seemed too good to be true.

  “I wholeheartedly accept.” She gave the captain a smile that reached in and took hold of her heart. “My future doesn’t seem so glum after all.”

  He chuckled. “You might reserve judgment until after you’ve mucked out a few stalls.”

  She wrinkled her nose then shrugged. “I’ll get along. Thank you, Captain.” She put her hands on his forearms. “Thank you for not forcing me to go with Jeremy.”

  He gently ran his rough knuckles across her still-bruised cheek. “You’re welcome.” His voice was as soft as his caress, and then that certain spark reentered his eyes. Would he kiss her again? She wouldn’t mind. She even hoped. Except . . .

  Julianna spun around on her heel. It had taken all her will to do so. “We shouldn’t . . . since nothing good can come of it anyway.”

  “I agree. We need to keep as much distance between us as possible.”

  As sad as the idea made her feel, Julianna knew in her heart of hearts it was the right thing to do. “I’ll keep my distance, Captain.”

  “You do that, Miss Wayland. And I’ll keep mine.”

  CHAPTER 9

  F OUR DAYS AND eight hours later Julianna brushed out her hair and stared into the wood-framed looking glass. The rhythmic motion proved both a luxury and a chore. Her entire body ached from the fatigue of the voyage combined with today’s disembarking and subsequent events. She’d been scrubbed, rubbed, measured, and fitted for more than a suitable new wardrobe. The captain had ordered her attired from “stem to stern.”

  She still bristled. How very like a seaman to use such demeaning verbiage.

  Seconds later she softened. More than miffed, she felt grateful.

  And puzzled. How did wealthy women survive such grueling attempts at beauty?

  And she was worried too. What about her tab? How would she ever repay the captain for the dresses, pinnings, and accessories, which the maids insisted she possess? Every protest she’d made this afternoon went ignored—and she planned to speak with the captain about the matter when the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps something could be returned to the department store.

  Julianna’s mind wandered back over the entirety of her day. Hours after they’d dropped anchor in New York’s harbor, a primly dressed, mature woman came aboard the ship to fetch her. Within minutes she introduced herself as Mrs. Cookson, member of Mr. George Ramsey’s household staff. Today she’d been employed by Captain Sundberg to see her home, bathed, and then taken to an enormous store to be fitted and dressed. The captain had ordered that everything be placed on his account. Later Mrs. Cookson saw her safely to the Ramsey’s elegant mansion.

  And now here she was.

  A leafy tree branch scraped the window pane, and a cool breeze wafted inside. She resumed her hair brushing. How good it felt to leave that hot and muggy cell and have clean hair once more. And her bath this afternoon felt positively delicious.

  When she’d arrived here at the Ramseys, she’d been immediately shown to one of the opulent guest bedrooms. Bertha informed her that Mrs. Ramsey had taken ill with a headache and that Mr. Ramsey and Captain Sundberg were conducting business. Therefore a formal dinner was out of the question. However, all three would expect her for breakfast in the morning.

  A light supper of sliced fresh fruit, cheese, cold meats, and a fat, buttered roll was delivered to her bedroom a short time ago. After weeks of Jeremy’s overcooked beef, scalded potatoes, and canned beans, the meal tasted like sheer delight. When Julianna finished eating, Laurabetha helped her dress for bed. Never in Julianna’s life had she been pampered in such a way. In fact, she was accustomed to doing the pampering.

  Laying aside the gleaming, silver-handled brush, Julianna rose from the polished oak vanity and once more took in the room’s elegance. A wide, plump bed occupied most of the center of the room. A bureau and chest of drawers stood adjacent to the vanity, along with two velvet-padded chairs. Green silk drapes framed the long windows, and a rose-on-the-vine paper covered the walls. Why, none of the rooms in Mr. Tolbert’s mansion cou
ld compare to the warmth and richness of this one. Just wait until she wrote and told Flora!

  Julianna frowned. Or maybe she shouldn’t contact her sister. She nibbled the side of her lip. Perhaps she’d speak to the captain about that too.

  Padding to the bedside table, Julianna extinguished the lamp before crawling beneath the covers. She sighed as she sank into its softness.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and she snuggled deeper into the freshly scented linens. They felt like the finest silk against her skin. She wondered if this is what heaven felt like as her lids slowly fluttered closed.

  The next morning Mrs. Cookson helped Julianna dress. She resigned herself to the service, concluding she’d not receive such special treatment on the captain’s family’s farm.

  Besides, today was a special day, marking her twentieth birthday. She doubted the captain remembered.

  With her new, dusky-blue blouse buttoned and her fawn-colored skirt fastened, Julianna watched in the mirror as Mrs. Cookson dutifully styled her hair and smoothed some cover-up onto Julianna’s yellowish bruises.

  “Thank you.” She gave the older woman a smile.

  Her stoic expression never changed. “You’re welcome, Miss.”

  Julianna gave her appearance a last look in the mirror. She scarcely recognized the reflection staring back at her. Gone was that pitiful girl with the sad, soulful, and sometimes frightened eyes. In her place stood a fashionable . . . woman. When had the transformation taken place?

  “You’d best hurry,” the maid said. “Breakfast is being served.”

  Julianna heeded the warning.

  Feeling a bit bemused, she descended the winding stairwell. She tried to recall everything Molly had taught her about being a lady. It wouldn’t do if her behavior didn’t match her new appearance. She was, after all, about to meet the Ramseys.

  The toes of one kid slipper touched down on the polished floor of the airy foyer, and she nearly slipped when she saw Captain Sundberg standing with his back to her near the front door. So much for grace and dignity—except she wasn’t accustomed to wearing such fine footwear, either.

  He heard her arrival and turned. The expression on his face resembled Julianna’s surprise when she’d first glimpsed her own reflection this morning.

  “Good morning, Captain.” She smiled, feeling shy for some odd reason. “I look a bit different, don’t I?”

  He recovered quickly. “You look lovely, Miss Wayland.” His tone was starched and formal, reminding Julianna of their agreement.

  Even so, she couldn’t help noticing how dashing he was—like the first time she’d seen him. He’d shaved his weeks’ worth of beard, revealing those alluring indents on either side of his mouth.

  He cleared his throat, and Julianna blinked to attention, realizing she’d been openly appreciating the man. Dropping her gaze, she stared at her hands, clasped in front of her. “I hope I haven’t kept you and the Ramseys waiting.”

  “No. You’re right on time.”

  Hearing him come forward, she looked up, and he offered his arm. Carefully threading her hand around his elbow, she felt the superior quality of his pressed white dress shirt, and then she noticed the gold timepiece peeking from a pocket in his ivory waistcoat.

  “I’ve told the Ramseys nothing of our departure to Wisconsin.”

  His voice was a husky whisper, and as he leaned toward her, Julianna caught the enticingly sweet scents of sandalwood and myrrh.

  “I’ve only said that you were a last-minute passenger—”

  She forced herself to pay attention.

  “—that you’re from London, and that you’re leaving New York tomorrow.”

  Julianna understood. He’d given a partial truth for now. “Yes, Captain.”

  He led her through the sitting room and down a hallway. Julianna noticed the lavish furnishings.

  “We’ll eat our breakfast on the terrace this morning.”

  “That sounds quite pleasant. Thank you.”

  They walked through the opened white, glass-paned double doors and onto a cement porch that looked out over a lush green lawn. Beyond it was the blue of the ocean. A tepid summer breeze washed over her, and Julianna wondered if God had given her this beautiful day, beautiful clothes, and beautiful people with whom to celebrate as a special birthday gift. She knew she’d never forget it.

  An older gentleman with neatly trimmed graying brown whiskers stood from his seat at the round, wrought-iron table.

  The captain made the introductions. “George and Eliza, allow me to present Miss Julianna Wayland.”

  “How nice to meet you, dear,” Mrs. Ramsey said.

  “Likewise.” Julianna’s gaze flitted to the pudgy woman with soft brown curls, clad in a blue velvet housecoat. Was the woman still ill?

  “You’ll have to forgive my informal attire,” Mrs. Ramsey said as if divining Julianna’s thoughts. “My sick headache is lingering.”

  “So sorry to hear it, ma’am.” Julianna looked to the well-dressed gentleman again.

  “A pleasure to mee—” He faltered and his polite smile waned. His hazel eyes darkened with familiarity. “Have we met?”

  “I don’t believe so.” The captain held her chair and Julianna sat down.

  “Wayland.” Mr. Ramsey murmured her last name then appeared immersed in thought.

  Julianna sent a glance the captain’s way as he seated himself across from her. His gaze narrowed in a momentary frown. However, he seemed to shake off any concerns quickly enough.

  Still, Mr. Ramsey looked pensive and perplexed too, as he lowered himself back into his chair. “Where in London are you from, Miss Wayland?”

  “Oh, I’ve lived all over the city, really.” She hoped the vague reply would suffice. At least she thought the captain looked pacified.

  Another maid, dressed in the traditional black and white uniform, came over and filled a small crystal glass in front of Julianna with fresh orange juice.

  “Thank you.” She would always remember to thank the help.

  “What does your, um, father do for a living?” Mr. Ramsey asked.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a father. He was never a part of my life on account of his sailing background.”

  The captain feigned a little cough, and Julianna realized she’d said too much. She sipped her orange juice. She would have to be more careful.

  “How sad that you didn’t know your father,” Mrs. Ramsey said. “But it’s true that a sailor’s first love is the sea.”

  “Maybe for some sailors,” the captain said. “I personally am looking forward to trading the helm for office space.” He gave the older man a smirk. “And I’d like a nice view of New York too.”

  “Of course. As my executive you may work wherever you please.” Mr. Ramsey seemed distracted, even disturbed. He peered at Julianna again. “Miss Wayland, do you . . . remember anything about your father?”

  “Not a thing.” That was a fib. Mr. Potter occasionally talked about what he recalled of Julianna’s father. Rugged, yet refined. Another womanizing, seafaring man who believed his lofty ideas for the future. Ideas that never came true. Mum had been one of the women who’d fallen for him.

  Julianna’s gaze settled on the captain, a man with lofty ideas of his own.

  His eyes drifted to hers and locked. Julianna thought she could stare into those warm blue eyes of his all day long.

  “So, Miss Wayland—”

  She snapped to attention. “Yes, Mr. Ramsey?” She forced herself to look at the man as she spoke.

  “Daniel mentioned you were a last-minute passenger on the Allegiance.” He sipped his coffee. “What made you want to leave London so hastily? Surely other passenger ships were setting sail that day as well.”

  “George, it just worked out that way. I thought you’d be happy to earn the extra fare.”

  “I am, indeed, but I’d still like to hear from Miss Wayland.”

  She decided on another half truth. “Well, you see, I’m an acquaintanc
e of Mr. Olson Tolbert Senior . . . ”

  “Tolbert?” Mr. Ramsey set down his porcelain cup and stroked his beard. “Why do I know that name?”

  Captain Sundberg groaned.

  “And I don’t recall it with particular fondness.”

  “You’re most likely thinking of Captain Tolbert, or the young master, as he’s known in his father’s house.”

  “Ah, yes . . . Captain Tolbert. Flogs his crew on a daily basis, or so I hear.”

  Mrs. Ramsey clucked her tongue. “Such abuse is despicable.”

  “I agree.” Captain Sundberg took a drink of coffee then dabbed his lips with his linen napkin. “But his father, Mr. Tolbert the senior, is a popular philanthropist in London and quite respectable.”

  “I see.” Mr. Ramsey’s frown diminished slightly—until he regarded Julianna again. “And you’re acquainted with him?”

  “Yes . . . well, the both of them, really, father and son.” Julianna ignored the captain’s wide-eyed stare. “And let me say, Olson Junior is rude and overbearing and I refused his . . . advances.”

  Mrs. Ramsey gasped but seemed intrigued all the same.

  Captain Sundberg’s face reddened. Was he angry?

  “Well, being an unmarried woman without a man’s protection, such as I am . . . ” Had she been too descriptive? Best she wrap it up. “I decided to leave London and begin my life anew in America.”

  A long moment passed in silence.

  “I see.” Mr. Ramsey drank the rest of his coffee, and the captain quickly poured him another cup. “What about your family in London. Surely they’ll miss you.”

  “I don’t have family, per se. Just an older sister, and she’s—”

  Julianna dropped her gaze to the napkin in her lap. Would Flora miss her? Would she even know Julianna was gone?

  “Well, long story short, me sister won’t care that I’m gone.” Sorrow clipped her heart.

  She looked up then, and decided Mr. Ramsey’s expression was a mix of shock and irritation.

  “An older sister?”