“A cold, hard day for late July,” Danny said, stumbling only slightly as he spoke. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Gavi?”
“It feels like winter.”
“Aye, that’s Portsmouth for you.” The crimson rose from his collar. “Perhaps as you’ve been ill, you’d care for my cloak?”
“No thank you, signore.”
He fumbled slightly over her refusal, then went on, “As I was saying, the weather—”
“Please to excuse me, sir.” Serafina turned away from the young officer. “My father is coming.”
“Of course, of course.” He cast a nervous bow and backed away, his face a bright scarlet. Two seamen snickered from the rigging.
Serafina’s father made it up the foredeck stairs by leaning heavily upon his wife’s arm. “Ah, you are better as well, I see.”
“Hello, Father.” Strange how merely saying those two words left her choking down a vast sob.
“It is good to leave that prison of a cabin behind, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh yes.”
“The prospect of leaving harbor tomorrow for the open sea fills me with dread, I don’t mind telling you.”
Her mother offered, “The doctor assures us the ailment will soon pass.”
“As he has said every day since we left Venice. How a merchant of our water-borne city could be laid so low by the open seas is a mystery.” He grimaced and clutched the side railing as the ship swayed slightly. “Perhaps you should lead me back downstairs, my dear.”
“Of course. Serafina, would you please aid us?”
She moved up close to her father’s other side. She had gained much strength over the past several days. Her legs trembled slightly as she took some of her father’s weight, but it was not from physical weakness. This was the first time she had been this close to her beloved father since Luca’s visit. She wrapped one arm around his back, touching her mother’s arm in the process. Her father let one arm rest upon her shoulder. As they maneuvered slowly down the foredeck stairs, he said quietly, “I have missed you, Serafina.”
“And I you.” This time the tears escaped, one from each eye.
“You are genuinely better now, I trust.”
Her mind cast upon what the morrow held, and she found herself unable to respond. She released her father as they entered the narrow passage leading to the cabins. She trailed along behind her parents as they reentered their room. Her father groaned mightily as the ship rocked back and forth, buffeted by the squall. He lowered himself into the bunk. “Perhaps you should ask the doctor to bring a bit more of his remedy.”
“No, my dear, we can use it only when truly needed. We shall be resting at anchor in but a few minutes.”
“You have no idea how long the minutes stretch,” her father said. “Or how endless are the hours.”
But I do. The thought was so clear Serafina feared for a moment that she had spoken them aloud. But her mother remained intent upon settling the blankets upon her father in his bunk. Serafina quietly slipped from the room.
She went back on deck and chose the railing that looked out over the gray waters to where a rain line swept steadily toward them. The only other person on that side of the deck was the English vicar, who nodded affably in her direction but did not speak. Serafina gave a quick curtsy and turned her face away. She had spent the past three nights arguing with herself over his sermon. Seeing him here only brought up the conflict anew.
Go and sin no more, the pastor had said. Serafina resisted a sudden urge to turn back and snap at him that his words meant less than nothing. She had sinned. Yes. But she did not feel contrite. How could she? She had been forced to sin. Serafina leaned upon the railing and raised her face to the first drops of rain. It would do no good to argue with the vicar. What could such a man as that possibly know about love?
Her father came to Serafina’s cabin the next morning. The ship had lain quietly at anchor since the previous afternoon, but Serafina had slept little. Last night the ship’s timbers had creaked and the wind had continued to whistle through the cracks and the riggings. Twice the bosun’s whistle had signaled the change of watches. But mostly she had listened to her own heartbeat and to her father’s snores. The cabin walls were not very thick. That morning she had heard the ship come awake around her. She had also heard her parents talking and knew what her father was going to say to her long before he arrived at her door.
“Good morning, daughter.” There was color to his features and a clearer light to his gaze. “I hope you slept well.”
“Thank you, Father. You are looking better.”
“Your mother was right not to let me have more of the potion. Last night was the first time since Venice that I was not troubled by the most dreadful dreams.” He wore a suit of somber gray, with a starched collar held in place by a simple gold stickpin. “Did you have a nice breakfast?”
“Tea and porridge. The same as every morning.” Cabin passengers were served on deck in decent weather and at anchor. Many had taken their morning meal at the railings, where they had studied the city and planned their one-day excursion into Portsmouth. The ship was scheduled to sail with the predawn tide, and everyone had to return before sunset.
“I would not know, as this is the first morning I managed to eat more than dried biscuit. I finished three bowls and am still ravenous.” He pulled his vest tight across his somewhat smaller waist and announced, “Your mother wishes me to ask you if things are settled now.”
Serafina knew all about this, for she had heard every word of their discussion. She knew the reason she had not been invited to join them for breakfast was because their debate had continued right through the meal. Her parents were going ashore. Her father wanted Serafina to join them. Her mother did not. Her mother had tried to explain that things were not better, as her father wanted to believe. But her father, ever the conciliator, hoped for peace and harmony once more within their little family.
“You are looking much better than . . . before,” her father continued.
“I am stronger now, thank you.”
“But that is not what I asked.”
Serafina examined her father carefully. He was a very good man. Gentle in demeanor, strong in character. “You have always been so very good to me,” she said and felt the lump grow once more in her throat.
“My dear sweet child.” He came over and settled onto the cabin’s tiny stool. “This whole wretched ordeal has been such a trial.”
She nodded, loving him deeply. “It has.”
“I hope you realize that everything we did was out of love and concern.” He patted her knee. “I knew your mother was wrong in her thinking this morning. It is so heartening to know the miserable affair is behind us now.”
Slowly Serafina shook her head. “I fear you misunderstand me, Father.”
“But you said—”
“I do love you. And I wish things were different. Truly I do. But my heart has been given to Luca. I am his betrothed.”
Her father rose to his feet so swiftly the stool clattered upon the planking. “I forbid it!”
“That changes nothing.”
“But . . . but I am your father!”
“And Luca is my beloved.” Serafina repeated silently, over and over, the words she had clung to as she had waited for his return. I will remain calm. “If only you could accept—”
“Outrage!” Her father’s weakened state was revealed in the mottled complexion that spread up from his collar. “Scandal!”
“Only because you and mother make it so.”
“You will remain in your cabin until we return, do you hear me?” His hand fumbled for the door lock. “You are forbidden to leave this chamber! And tomorrow you and I shall have words. Oh yes. There is news which I deem you are now well enough to hear!”
Serafina bowed her head and held herself against the slamming of the door. She listened to the strident tones with which he reported to her mother. She waited as their angry footsteps retreated
down the passageway and out on deck. She sighed at the pressure of her swollen and aching heart. Then she stepped onto the floor. She balanced her inkstand and quill and sheets of parchment upon her small travel chest. And she began to write. The letter was quite brief, but it required a long time to complete. Over and over she had to stop and wait for her composure to return so that she could see the words take shape and write them with a steady hand.
Chapter 12
Serafina marveled at her own ability to cope. As she began her journey before dawn, swirling emotions rocked her being with fearful force. But her voice remained clear, and she saw her way calmly through each step of the journey.
From the Portsmouth dock where the longboat had deposited her, Serafina made her way to the inn. There she changed one of her remaining ducats for a handful of silver. She was certain the innkeeper cheated her and demanded that he rethink the first offer he made, though the number of crowns and shillings meant nothing to her. But she found she had been correct, for the innkeeper flushed and added a half-dozen more coins to the pile, then threw in a breakfast of cold stew and sweet tea.
Over her meal she allowed the cowl of her cloak to fall back, but then she noticed several of the men examining her in a speculative fashion. She replaced her hood and kept it close around her face throughout the remainder of the day.
She took the post coach to London because all the swift public carriages were headed that direction. The journey was good and bad, depending upon the stretch of road. Some segments were so smooth the carriage might as well have been traveling upon calm seas. And indeed that was what Serafina dreamed when she fell asleep. She was very tired after the previous few nights. She had thought she might just doze off for a moment, but she fell into such a deep sleep she could not awaken herself, or so it felt. She dreamed she was aboard a ship. Only this was not the vessel that had carried them from Venice. This one rocked back and forth as it sped away from the other ship, the one that carried her mother and father out to where it melted into the distance. As she watched the ship disappear, she was struck by a certainty that she had made a terrible mistake.
Serafina woke to a hollow feeling in the center of her being. She stared out the open window and whispered the name of her beloved. Over and over, like a litany, to remind herself why she had taken this course. Luca.
In order to keep from falling asleep again, she joined in conversation with the woman seated across from her. She learned that there was a new train service running from London to Bristol, and one of the stops was Bath. Serafina had heard of trains but never seen one. Traders in her father’s circle spoke of steam eventually being used to power ships, though few believed it was possible. She did not know how she felt about riding upon a train. But she knew she wanted this journey to end as swiftly as possible. She needed to arrive in Bath and find Aunt Agatha and obtain the necessary funds to travel back to Venice. Perhaps Agatha would travel with her. Serafina brightened at the prospect of a companion.
But her heart ached so. Added to the burden of loneliness was the image of what her parents would endure when they discovered she was no longer aboard the ship. And what if the vessel turned around? What if it returned to Portsmouth? No, her conversations with the young midshipman had confirmed this was impossible. Modern trading vessels held to a tight time schedule. No, the ship would not turn back, no matter how her parents pleaded. Serafina wiped away a tear at the thought of all the distress she was causing.
The coach journey to London took six hours. All the other passengers seemed pleased with the time, but Serafina arrived feeling hot and miserable. The ship’s motions had never bothered her, but the jerky carriage ride and the dust through the open windows left her queasy. Besides which, two of the men insisted upon lighting long clay pipes, adding a thick tobacco stench to the air.
The coach made two stops in London before halting at a tall stone edifice. Over the front portals was inscribed “The Royal London to Bristol Rail Offices and Coach Lines.” Serafina was very glad to step down.
The crowds here were unlike anything she had ever seen. Every inch of road and walkway was packed. The men, all bearded, wore long dark coats and rounded hats. Their skin was very pale, as though they never saw the sun. The women dressed exactly the opposite of the men, their clothing reflecting every color of the rainbow and shimmering in the July afternoon. Her own dark cloak was very drab and hot, but she decided not to cast it aside. She was, after all, alone in a strange and faraway land.
Serafina dodged around carriages and peddlers’ wagons and street urchins. She made her way up the central stairs. At the top, to one side of the main portals, was a small office marked “Sailings.” She changed course and went inside.
The three men behind the counter were all busy with other customers. Serafina waited until one became free. The chamber was cramped and airless and full of tobacco smoke. She could feel her queasiness returning, but she desperately wanted to learn about transport back to Italy.
The gentleman behind the counter wore a striped vest and had ink stains encircling his shirt cuffs. He gave her a narrow-eyed inspection, trying to peer into her hood’s shadows. “Yes?”
“P-please, I am seeking passage to Venice.”
He tilted his head this way and that, clearly displeased with the mysterious way she hid herself. “Venice, as in Italy?”
“Yes.”
“Out of our territory, that is.” He sniffed his disapproval. “Have to take that up across town. Next.”
But she did not want to make her way across London, spending more of her swiftly vanishing coins, and risk getting very lost in the process. Reluctantly, she raised her hands and slipped the hood back.
The clerk’s eyes rounded. A murmur rose from other men within the room’s confines. Serafina kept her gaze intent upon the man on the counter’s opposite side. “I must go to Bath on the next train, sir. I do not have time to go anywhere else. Please, you can help me?”
The man fumbled for something beneath the counter top without taking his eyes from her. He came up with a leather-bound ledger, which he flipped open. He scanned page after page, lifting his eyes now and then. “You’re Italian, are you?”
“Yes, sir. From Venice.” Serafina knew everyone was watching her now. She endured the stares and the murmurs because she had to. “I just want to go home.”
For some reason, saying that one word left her choking down tears. Home. Her throat constricted so tightly she could scarcely draw breath.
The clerk was neither young nor old. His beard was dark with a few strands of gray around the ears. Yet he patted her hand like a favorite uncle. “There, there,” he said.
The gift of sympathy was too much to bear. She could feel the tears coursing down her cheek. “Forgive me, sir. I am so tired.”
The clerk motioned at someone behind her. “You there, stand up, why don’t you, and offer the lady a stool. Now sit yourself down, miss. Would you care for something? A cup of tea, perhaps?”
“Thank you, no. I just want—”
“Venice. Yes, well, Venice is not as easy as one might wish.” His ink-stained finger traced its way down the page. “There’s two lines plying the Amalfi Coast, don’t you know. And another makes regular stops down Genoa way. But Venice, now, that means sailing right ’round the boot and up. . . . Here we are. Venice, Italy. There’s a sailing set for the third of October.”
“But—but that is months away!”
“Aye, well, you could sail to Genoa, like I said, and coach across. That’s possible, I suppose?”
“Yes, of course.” One coach to Bologna and another to Venice. She shuddered at the thought of such travel alone and unaccompanied. “Please, how much is a ticket?”
“Well, now. That depends. You’d want a cabin, I suppose. And it’s for you and . . .”
“My . . . aunt.”
“The two of you, a private cabin . . .” He turned his page, then dipped his quill and made rapid calculations on a bit of scratch paper
. “Thirty-two pounds and sixpence.”
“Please, sir, you will write down this sum? And where I must go for the passage?”
“Aye, that I will, miss. With pleasure.” He wrote in a practiced hand, then dusted the paper and handed it over. “But it’s Bath you’re after today, is it?”
“Yes, my aunt, you see, she lives near there.”
He pulled out a steel vest watch and flipped open the case.
“Then you’ll need to make haste, miss. There’s a train outbound in less than an hour, and not another until this time tomorrow.”
She leaped to her feet. “Where do I go?”
“Wait, now. I can write you up a ticket—you’ll be needing that. Just you, is it?”
“Yes, sir. Oh, thank you.” She fished out her handful of remaining coins. “Please, you will tell me what it costs?”
He cocked his head to one side and smiled. “New to these shores, are you?”
“Yes, I just arrived this morning at Portsmouth.”
“Portsmouth? Today?”
“Yes, sir. And took the coach up. P-postal, I think they said.”
“Isn’t that an astonishment.” He took far too long selecting the coins from her hand. “Inbound by sailing ship this morning, up by coach, now the train to Bath. No wonder you’re tired. Have you eaten?”
“No, but sir, the train—”
“We’ll be certain you make the train.” He turned to a youth lingering in the back of the office area. He flipped the lad a coin and said, “Have Maggie do up a bit of roast and buttered bread and a traveling pot of tea. And right smart too.”
The lad scampered.
“Oh, sir, I can’t thank you—”
“None of that, now.” The man flushed slightly. As he scribbled into a form book, he asked, “Where’d you learn your English?”
Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive Page 12