A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  Afterward, Kira found that she felt better than she had in days. She sat up and wiped her tearstained face before smoothing the skin under her eyes and drying the dampness from her cheeks. Then she went to one of the trunks and removed an outfit.

  When she laid it out on the bunk, she smiled at the vivid memory it gave her. It was the same green riding dress that she had worn when Sean had taken her from her father’s office. She was wearing it when he had pressed his body against hers on the clean smelling grass outside Charleston. The warmth of the memory reached far into her. How she ached for him now; how she needed him; how she wanted him…

  Within a minute after Kira had dressed, there was a knock at her door. She ran to it, willing her fingers to open the door slowly as she forced herself to exhibit a calm demeanor.

  “Yes?” she called as she pulled the door open slightly.

  “Cap’n wants you on deck, Missy,” called the cabin boy.

  “Tell him I’ll be up in a moment.” Closing the door again and breathing a sigh of relief, she slid her hand to the knife under her clothing and smiled before turning to open the door again. The guard was gone.

  When her feet touched the deck, her legs almost gave way beneath her. She had never seen such confusion; buildings rose on the shore, there were docks and wharves spanning the harbor from end to end. Ships of all sizes and shapes were bobbing on the calm sea. She could even hear the voices of people shouting at each other from the docks.

  “Portsmouth,” came the voice behind her. Kira wheeled around to face Captain Zachery. “Nothing like Charleston.”

  “It’s ugly!” she exclaimed, recovering her voice.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t have to see it for very long. You’ll be leaving within an hour of docking. Go below and get your things together,” he ordered her in a sharp voice.

  “Everything is packed,” she told him. His coarse features seemed a repulsive parody of the man who had once attracted her. “Where am I going after we dock?” she asked, keeping her voice level and emotionless.

  “We are going to Farnham; I am going home then to Charleston.” Every word he spoke was filled with venom.

  “I thought I was going to my family’s residences. They’re all in Suffolk or Cambs, not Farnham,” she stated. She forced away the fear that was starting in her stomach.

  “Your family maintains a home in Farnham because it lies directly between London and Portsmouth, and your uncle wanted the important members of the family to be at the disposal of either one of his offices, which is why you’re going there,” said Zachery in a sarcastic voice. “Odd that you should have to have a stranger inform you of your own family’s affairs, Mistress Cornwall!”

  “I am more a stranger to them than you are,” she murmured thoughtfully before returning to her cabin.

  When the ship docked, Kira placed the last of her things in a trunk and closed it. Shortly, two seamen came to her cabin and took the three trunks out. Then Captain Zachery arrived to show her out. She sensed something in his manner had undergone a change.

  “I can help you,” he said quickly. “I can set you free.”

  Kira stared at him, wondering what his price for freedom might be.

  “You offer me freedom?”

  “Kira, I offer you a position that your uncle would not argue with. I offer you a marriage.” Simon Zachery was so completely sincere, Kira struggled not to laugh.

  “You offer me only a trade. You for my uncle.” Anger flashed across the man’s face, but she could not hold her tongue. “Do you want me so? Or do you want my father’s company? Are you tired of working for my uncle? Do you want to compete against him? A great bargain it would be,” she said bitterly. “You would get the company, my home and my body to command as you would!” Kira shook her head savagely as she spoke. “No! I’ll take my chances with the unknown rather than with you!”

  The fury on his face deepened, and when he moved, Kira held her ground. Zachery’s hand flew towards her, catching her full on the cheek. She was spun around by the force of the blow and landed at the foot of the bed.

  The captain took a step towards her, his fists clenched in impotent rage.

  “You will stay here until I come for you. Then you will see what awaits you in your future!” Zachery turned on his heel and left. In the corridor, Kira heard him order a man to stand guard at her door.

  She went to the desk and dipped her washcloth into the basin of water. She squeezed out the excess moisture and placed the cool cloth against her cheek. The pain was almost gone. Bitterly, she spat out blood and realized the inside of her lip had been cut by her teeth.

  “Better that than him!”

  <><><>

  The carriage pulled off the main thoroughfare and onto a side road running between tall oak trees. It was early afternoon, just past midday, and almost two days since she’d left the ship. They had ridden day and night, stopping only for meals. Zachery seemed to be a man possessed, only wanting to rid himself of his charge.

  Kira kept her eyes glued to the road, trying to memorize everything they passed, should an opportunity present itself for escape. She was determined to regain her freedom as soon as possible. She would be a model prisoner, lull all fears of her rebelliousness and then she would escape. It did not matter to her where fate would lead her. Only freedom mattered.

  When the carriage left the last of the oak trees, it entered onto an enormous manicured lawn. She looked to the far side and saw the house, one of the largest she had ever seen. The red bricks were almost completely covered by vines, their lush green giving it a look of age and warmth. It rose three stories and had a multitude of windows. There were turrets on the front two corners, and the window frames were painted a bright, sparkling white.

  A fence ran along each side of the house and continued for as far as the eye could see. Behind the fence, was shrubbery, bushes, trees and plants of a large, formal garden. She recognized the patterns of Uncle James’ own gardens in Charleston.

  The carriage made a slow turn and, after several minutes, pulled up in front of the main doors. A black-uniformed man, his white hair peeking from under a black hat, opened the carriage door.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Zachery,” he said, bowing low. Zachery nodded at the man.

  “Lord Cornwall is at home?”

  “Yes sir,” said the servant.

  “Please make sure that Mistress Cornwall stays by the carriage,” he instructed.

  “Of course, sir,” the servant smiled with slightly raised eyebrows. “Will it be all right if Madam steps out of the carriage?”

  “Whatever she wants, Markham, but she is not to leave your sight.”

  “Yes sir. Lord Cornwall is in his offices. Charles will take you to him.” Zachery nodded again and went to the front door where the butler, also in a black uniform, awaited the guests from America.

  As Kira watched the captain disappear into the house, she heard Markham’s voice at her side. “Would Madam care to step out? I’m sure you’ve had a tiring journey.”

  Kira stepped down from the carriage and onto the bricks of the drive. She stretched, admiring the house and trying to remove the aches and kinks that had developed since their last stop. If nothing else, at least it would be a beautiful prison.

  Within five minutes, Zachery returned with another man who was unmistakably a Cornwall. The man was not as fat as James Cornwall, and his features were somewhere in between her uncle’s and her father’s. He was of medium height, with darkish hair that turned snow white at his sideburns; he had a glowing white mustache, which he stroked with the back of his forefinger when he stopped in front of Kira.

  “Welcome, my dear,” he said with a flourish, taking Kira’s hand in his and brushing its back with his lips. “And please accept my condolences on the death of your father, my cousin.” He released her hand and stared at her with the same dark brown eyes as her uncle James had. “The last time I saw Jonathan, why it must have been two or three years before you
were born. Eighty-seven or eighty-eight, if 1 remember correctly.”

  Kira smiled. He was a charming man, not at all like Uncle James.

  “Stephan,” he said quickly, introducing himself. “I’ll have the servants fetch your things and bring them to your new rooms. My wife, Angela, and my stepson are out for a ride. When they return, they’ll be anxious to meet you. We are all so glad you’ve arrived.”

  Stephan Cornwall gave her a slight bow and then turned to the captain. “Captain Zachery, will you be spending the night?”

  “No,” he said curtly. He looked fatigued, more so than Kira, and she knew he had slept very little, if at all, on this journey. “When we finish our business, I’ll return to Portsmouth.”

  “Very well, Captain, I’ll join you in my study as soon as Miss Cornwall is settled.” With that, her cousin showed Kira into the house. As they passed the front door, the butler bowed low to them.

  “Charles, this is Miss Kira Cornwall, a relative from the Colonies. She will be staying with us. Have the maids prepare the second floor rooms on the east wing.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Stephan Cornwall gave Kira a brief tour of her new home, and by the time he led her to her rooms, he’d been able to draw her out. She was surprised at his warmth and his humor, and noted how he seemed to be a man of his own rather than a puppet of Uncle James. As they walked up the wide staircase to the second floor, Kira let her eyes feast on the magnificent works of art that hung all around her. Wherever her eyes darted was another painting —a beautiful, colorful masterpiece of artistic splendor.

  “You are a lord?” she asked. Her father had never mentioned that there was nobility in her family.

  “Yes,” Stephan nodded, “but it’s not as it was in days past. I am a businessman and valuable to the throne. Therefore, I am a lord.” He shrugged modestly.

  Kira was taken aback by this show of humility. She felt herself begin to like this man, despite her preconceptions.

  “But there’s nothing wrong with being a successful businessman,” she assured him.

  “Thanks to your uncle James. Otherwise, we would be paupers.” When he saw the questioning look in her eyes, he went on. “Didn’t your father tell you about the English Cornwalls?” Kira shook her head.

  “This way.” He took her elbow as they reached the landing and guided her down the hallway. “The family lost everything during the war, and when your Colonies broke free we were left without. My father committed suicide rather than go to debtor’s prison. Your grandfather kept the family going with his assistance and, after he died, James continued to help until we were on our feet again. We owe all we have to James Cornwall.” He stopped and stared into Kira’s eyes. She clearly read the unspoken message and its meaning.

  For all of Stephan Cornwall’s humility, Kira saw in a flash that she had only gone from the uncouth and ugly to the well-mannered and civil. Nothing had changed, except the country in which she was a prisoner. Kira inclined her head to let him know she understood what had not been said and waited as he opened the door to her rooms.

  The sight that greeted her eyes was more than pleasant. The first room they entered, the sitting room, was furnished with a couch of deep red velvet. Two armchairs of the same material were placed opposite it. The walls were done in a fine wallpaper that had contrasting shades of reds on a white background. One window had been opened and a fresh breeze, laden with the scent of flowers, blew in. After a few seconds spent admiring her new quarters, she followed her cousin into the adjacent bedroom. It was immense, with a large, intricately carved bed standing against one wall. The bedspread was matched by the swag of the curtains on each of the room’s two windows, and the material’s design was reproduced again on the wallpaper—this time in several shades of blue.

  Stephan walked to the far wall and opened another door, saying, “Your powder room and boudoir.” Kira glanced through the opening and noted the red wallpaper that must match the entrance room.

  “The maids will be along in a moment to assist you in unpacking. Please join us downstairs after you’ve refreshed yourself. Lady Cornwall—my wife, Angela, that is—will return within the hour.” Stephan Cornwall smiled warmly at her as he strode to the door. “And please, Kira, make yourself completely at home.”

  Kira smiled tentatively at him as he left the room. She was just beginning to orient herself in her quarters when there was a knock at the door and two women entered, dressed in black-and-white uniforms.

  “Afternoon, Mum,” said the older of the two as they walked in. “M’name is Meg, and this here’s Polly.” Meg appeared to be in her late forties, but Polly was no more than nineteen.

  “We’ve come ta help y’ settle, Mum,” she said with a curtsey.

  “All right, my trunks are in the powder room. Please unpack them and hang everything out to air. One trunk contains all the clothing that I’ve worn on the journey. It will all have to be cleaned.” Kira paused as she watched the two women walk toward the room. “Meg,” she called.

  “Yes, Mum?”

  “Would it be possible to take a bath before I meet Lady Cornwall?” She had had her last bath before she left Charleston, and although she had been able to cleanse herself daily on shipboard, she wanted desperately to soak in a tub of warm water.

  “Of course, Mum. Polly, fetch water for the bath,” Meg ordered the younger girl. “Now, Mum, could y’ tell me which drawers you’ll be wanting your things in?” Kira stepped into the boudoir and began to give Meg instructions for unpacking.

  Turning from the servant, she looked around her new home. As she took in everything, her eyes turned thoughtful.

  CHAPTER 20

  Kira had never equated luxury with warm water until now. She let the water soak into her skin, filling every pore. She drew in the sweet rose scent of bath oils, allowing the water to soothe and refresh her. Two days of travel had taken their toll on her muscles and the many weeks spent shipboard without a bath had affected her skin. All she wanted to do was wash away the memories of the journey.

  Resting her head back on the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes and momentarily fled this room, her new prison, to a happier place where she and her lover lived, far from the cares and evils of the world.

  Kira’s eyes snapped open at the sound of someone drawing a deep breath. What was that? It was clear there was no one else in the room with her. She looked around the boudoir. Everything was in place. The door that separated the bedroom from the boudoir was closed, as was the servant’s door opposite it. The closet door was ajar, as she thought she remembered it. Again Kira closed her eyes, but the wonderful image of Sean was gone. Oddly enough, she still sensed a presence in the room watching her.

  She sank her body deeper into the tub, uncomfortable at the sensation of being spied upon, but helpless, for the moment, to do anything about it. A knock from the servant’s door came a few moments later and, with a sigh of relief, Kira called out.

  Meg came into the room and curtsied before unfurling a large towel and holding it out for Kira. “Lady Cornwall says she will expect you in the drawing room for tea, Mum.” Kira stood, letting the water cascade from her body, and stepped out of the tub into the towel that Meg wrapped around her.

  “Which dress would Mum be wearing?” asked Meg, and opened the closet door.

  “I don’t know. What is commonly worn for tea?” she inquired, hoping to both gain information and at the same time engage the servant’s sympathies by giving her a chance to act as her advisor.

  “If you’ll be begging my pardon, Mum, something simple. Lady Cornwall dresses for everything, but it be best if you weren’t dressed as finely.” Kira smiled in agreement and noted this for further use.

  Meg pulled out one of Kira’s favorites, a light blue silk dress bordered in a darker blue scroll.

  “This would do nicely.” She held the dress up and turned it for inspection. Kira was rather surprised,
since the dress was one of her best ones; she had worn it many times on the most formal of occasions. Perhaps styles had changed in England more than she’d thought.

  When Meg had helped her to dress and put the finishing touches to the upswept red hair, Kira followed the servant down the long corridor to the stairs. At the base of the stairs, Meg turned right at a double door of etched glass that led into the interior of the main floor.

  “Polly or m’self will attend your dressing for dinner. Enjoy your tea, Mum,” Meg said with a strange—almost anticipatory—look in her eyes, as she opened both doors wide to let Kira enter.

  Kira had never seen such an opulently furnished drawing room. It was awash with a multitude of colors, some quite garish, some very subdued. There was no overall effect; rather, each portion of the room had to be looked at separately.

  A huge painting depicting a group of angels with silver-white wings hovering over a half-nude woman resting on a rock, dominated one wall. But even more striking was the woman seated beneath the painting in a wing-backed chair. From a distance, she seemed quite young, but as Kira neared her she saw the heavy covering of makeup on the woman’s face. The makeup did remove many of the lines and wrinkles, but it also sacrificed the natural movement of her skin. Only her gray eyes showed any life. Her hair was piled high on her head and was even redder than Kira’s, the shade unnatural. She wore a tightly fitted gold-and-green dress, accented with scrolls of hand-stitched material bordering every seam. The bodice was cut lower than any Kira had seen in respectable society, and instead of flaring at the hips, the gown clung tightly, outlining the woman’s body until it reached the knees, where it finally flowed outward.

  She wore a mass of jewelry. A diamond and gold necklace hung around her neck; a pendant with a huge diamond reached into the valley formed by her heavy uplifted breasts. Both wrists were enclosed in large gold link bracelets, and each finger of her hands bore a ring. Kira was shocked at the lengths this gaudily dressed woman had gone to impress someone she’d never met. She seemed so much the opposite of her husband.