Chapter 11
“Why did you bring her here?” Derek demanded, his eyes dark with anger. He’d finally returned in time for supper, having spent several hours making repairs to Widow Blanchette’s roof and helping her girls put the place back to rights after the storm, and then heading down to the beach to help the townspeople who were still hauling the dead out of the sea. Josh had told him about Alice as soon as Derek walked in, stopping him in his tracks. If Ben knew his brother, he hadn’t worked himself up into a fury because Ben had offered shelter to Alice, but because he hadn’t been consulted, a respect due him as the head of the household.
“Because she needed help,” Ben snapped. “Was I supposed to leave her to die?”
“I didn’t say that,” Derek countered. “Dr. Rosings would have taken her, or Mercy Greaves. She’s all alone in that big house since her husband passed, and she has experience nursing the sick.”
“And what’s wrong with us?” Ben asked, his voice low and angry.
“There’s nothing wrong with us, Ben, but did you ask Ma how she feels about this added responsibility? It’s not as if you or I are going to be nursing this woman. Ma’s got enough to do, especially with me not here half the time.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time at Barbara Blanchette’s house,” Ben countered. He knew he was being unfair, since Hannah had been the one to ask Derek to help their neighbor in her hour of need, but he couldn’t help lashing out. Derek was always so righteous.
“What are you suggesting?” Derek demanded, his voice dangerously low.
“She is an attractive woman and has a good-sized farm.”
“I have a farm,” Derek snapped. “Maybe you should start going over there, given that you’re looking for a place to call your own.”
Ben would have decked him had their mother not come between them. “Stop arguing this instant,” she said, looking from one son to the other. “I don’t mind looking after Alice. My heart goes out to her. She is so frightened, the poor girl. I’m sure her people will come looking for her.”
“And if they don’t?” Derek asked, but the anger had left his voice. He was resigned to the situation. “How would they even know to look here?”
“Magistrate Tate will send word to New York, and they can print an account of the shipwreck in the papers. Now, sit down. Supper is getting cold.”
“Ma,” Derek began patiently as he took his seat at the head of the table, “we don’t know the name of the ship, where it was going, or where it came from. There are seventeen bodies laid out in the church, but no other survivors. It would be a very short account,” he pointed out.
“Once Alice recovers her memory, she’ll tell us what she knows,” Hannah replied patiently.
“And if she doesn’t?”
“And if she doesn’t, we will treat her as part of our family,” Hannah said. “I’m still mistress of this house, Derek, and I will decide what happens here. I have raised you to be kind and charitable, and I would ask you to respect me in this.” Hannah had spoken quietly, but her tone brooked no argument, and Derek had the decency to look shamefaced.
“Yes, Ma. I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I will go up and introduce myself tomorrow morning, and I’ll ask Lydia if she might have some castoff gowns she’d like to donate to our guest.”
“Any excuse to see Lydia,” Ben needled him. Lydia Blackwell was the daughter of Harold Blackwell, the owner of the Blackwell Arms. They all knew Derek was sweet on her, but the courtship that seemed to have blossomed over the summer had stalled of late. Ben didn’t think it was because Derek had lost interest, so perhaps Lydia had experienced a sudden change of heart.
“So, now you think I’m courting both Barbara Blanchette and Lydia Blackwell?” Derek asked, glaring at Ben.
“Barbara is newly widowed, Ben, and in need of our help. Your insinuations are untrue and unkind,” Hannah said archly. “And as for Lydia, she’ll come around, Derek. Just give her a bit of time.”
“Time to do what?” Josh piped in. “Find herself an officer?”
Everyone turned to Josh. “What are you talking about, Josh?” Derek asked.
“I saw her walking in the woods with Lieutenant Reynolds yesterday. She seemed to be really enjoying his company,” Josh said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows.
“And how would you know that?” Hannah demanded, glaring at her youngest.
“Because I saw them kiss,” Josh announced triumphantly.
Derek’s hand froze as he reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes. “He kissed her?” he asked incredulously.
“Right. That’s enough of that, young man,” Hannah chided him. “Eat your supper. I’m sure you misunderstood what you saw.”
“I doubt it,” Josh muttered under his breath. “Pass the mash, Derek.”
“I do hope Lydia has something to spare. I’ll ask Mercy Greaves tomorrow, as well. I’d lend Alice one of my gowns, but she’s taller and thinner than I am.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something for her to wear,” Ben said, eager to steer the conversation away from Alice. “Seventeen bodies, you say?” he asked Derek. “You think there will be more?”
“Hard to say. It’s possible, I suppose.”
“Derek, was there nothing on the victims to indicate who they were?” Hannah asked, her expression sorrowful.
“Just the clothes they’d been wearing at the time of the storm,” Derek replied. “Several appear to be sailors, and the others looked prosperous enough, but they could have been anyone, from anywhere.”
“Were there any women or children?” Hannah asked, her voice cracking with distress.
“There were two women,” Derek replied. “Both of middle years. No children, thank God.”
“One of those women may have been traveling with Alice,” Hannah pointed out. “They might have been her mother, or mother-in-law, or even her servant.”
Derek raised an eyebrow at that. “What makes you think she had a servant?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hannah replied. “It was just a thought.”
“Was she wearing a fine gown? Silk stockings? Jewelry?” Derek inquired, his interest piqued. Hannah paused in thought for a moment.
“Mother?” Ben asked. “Did you notice the quality of her clothes?” He hadn’t paid much attention to what Alice had been wearing, his only objective to get her warm and dry as soon as possible.
“I soaked the gown and stockings in cold water to get the salt and the smell out,” Hannah said. “The stockings are plain cotton but good as new. They’d never been darned. And the gown is of fine wool, the color not yet faded. She wasn’t wearing any jewels when I undressed her, except for a silver chain with a small cross,” she added as an afterthought.
“No wedding ring?” Derek asked.
“No, but I suppose it might have slipped off when she went in the water.”
“The other women still had theirs,” Derek pointed out.
“I certainly hope no one has helped themselves to any of their valuables,” Hannah said. “I wouldn’t put it past some to steal from the dead.” Josh chose this moment to apply himself to his food, hoping his mother wouldn’t bring up the watch he found on the beach.
“No, of course not,” Derek rushed to assure her. “They will be buried with whatever they had on them at the time of their death. They will be given every respect. Mr. Tate has asked that everyone attend the funeral, as a mark of respect.”
“When is it to be?” Hannah asked.
“Tomorrow. They’ve already started digging the graves,” he added.
“Will they have individual graves for them?” Hannah asked. Seventeen graves made for a lot of digging.
“There will be three mass graves,” Derek replied. “With markers.”
Hannah nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “How sad to be buried in a strange place, with not even a name to put on a marker. The families of these people will never know what became of their loved ones.”
&nbs
p; “Ships are lost at sea all the time,” Derek said. He pushed away his plate. He’d hardly eaten anything, Ben noticed, which was unusual. Maybe his pragmatic, stoic brother had been more affected by the disaster than he was letting on.
“Has Alice eaten anything?” Ben asked.
“I took up a bowl of broth and some bread,” Hannah replied. “Dr. Rosings said she was to eat lightly for the next few days. She managed some broth and a few bites of bread, but then she began to feel ill.”
“Did she puke?” Josh inquired, his face alight with curiosity.
“No, she didn’t,” Hannah answered him. “But she was tired, so I let her sleep. I left the bread and a cup of water, should she wake in the night.”
“I do wonder who she is,” Derek said. “Imagine not being able to remember anything about your life, not even your name.”
“She’s very fragile,” Hannah said. “Be mindful of her feelings, boys.”
“Yes, Ma,” they answered in unison.
Chapter 12
Alice woke to find sunlight streaming through the dormer window, bathing the small room in golden light. She suddenly realized that she didn’t even know what month is was, much less what day. She’d lain awake long into the night, struggling to recall something of her life, but after hours of frustration had finally succumbed to sleep. She did feel marginally better. Her head still hurt, and her stomach roiled as if she were standing on the deck of a ship, but she felt a little stronger. A wave of dizziness assailed her when she tried to get up to use the pot, her legs folding beneath her as if they were made of straw.
“Come on,” she said through gritted teeth. “You can do this.” She couldn’t bear the humiliation of having to call someone to help her, so she sat back down, waited for the dizziness to pass, then tried again. She even managed to wash her face and hands in the basin Hannah had left for her on the chest of drawers.
Climbing back into bed, she stared at the patch of sky visible through the narrow windowpanes. So blue. So clear. Had the sky been clear and blue the day she’d boarded the ill-fated ship? Where had she been going? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Alice turned her face toward the door when she heard footsteps. There was a light knock, followed by Hannah.
“Good morning. How are you feeling today?” Hannah asked brightly.
“Better,” Alice assured her, her gaze fixed on the man who’d followed Hannah into the room, a wooden tray in his hands. Alice sat up, wondering who he was. He was clearly related to Ben and Josh, who’d peeked through the open door but hadn’t come to speak to her. The man’s hair, a deeper brown than Ben and Josh’s sandy hue, was pulled back and secured with a black ribbon, and his eyes were a darker green. In fact, he was a taller, leaner version of Ben. He also appeared to be a few years older. Alice put him at around twenty-five.
“Hello,” he said, giving her a respectful bow, the tray still in his hands. Alice couldn’t help noticing the glimmer of curiosity in his gaze. He was as intrigued by her as she was by him. “I’m Derek Wilder.”
“My eldest,” Hannah supplied.
“Alice.” The name felt wrong on her tongue, so wrong, in fact, that she almost preferred not to be called anything at all.
“I’m glad to see you feeling better this morning,” Derek said.
“Thank you.”
“There’s porridge, bread, and a cup of warm milk. I hope you feel up to some breakfast,” Hannah said.
“You’re very kind,” Alice replied. She was surprisingly hungry, and the promise of something hot in her belly made her mouth water.
“Can you manage on your own?” Derek asked as he carefully set the tray in her lap. Sunlight glinted off the silver ring on his finger. It looked just like the one worn by Ben.
Why? Are you offering to feed me? Alice bit her tongue as the flirtatious words nearly spilled from her unbidden. “Yes, thank you,” she said instead.
He smiled into her eyes, his gaze strangely intimate and uncomfortably familiar, then took a step back, taking up a position behind his mother, the warmth of a moment ago replaced by silent watchfulness.
Mother and son watched her as she took a sip of milk followed by a spoonful of porridge. It was good, flavored with butter and maple syrup and bits of apple. She felt strange eating as they looked on, as if she were some sort of entertainment, but continued to bring the spoon to her mouth until the bowl was empty.
“That was delicious,” she said truthfully.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Hannah replied. She seemed genuinely pleased. “I’ve washed out your things. There’s a stiff breeze today, so they should dry quickly.”
She was about to say something else when a bell tolled in the distance, then again. “Is it Sunday?” Alice asked.
“It’s Wednesday,” Derek Wilder replied quietly.
“So, why are they ringing the bell?”
“There’s to be a funeral today, for the victims of the wreck,” he replied, his gaze never leaving her face.
“No!” Alice cried. “I must be there. I need to see—” The words died on her lips. It sounded morbid to say she needed to see their faces before they were lost to her forever, but this was her last chance. “Please, I need to see them,” she pleaded.
“My dear, it would be too distressing for you,” Hannah said, but Derek nodded in agreement.
“I think she should see them, Ma. I will escort Alice to the funeral. It is to be held at eleven o’clock. Can you find something for our guest to wear?” he asked.
“Of course. And I will help you with your hair. Don’t worry, I will be very gentle,” Hannah promised, noting the look of alarm on Alice’s face.
“I’ll tell Josh to take a message to Reverend Paulson, asking him to leave the faces of the dead uncovered until Alice has had a chance to say goodbye,” Derek said. “We’ll go to the church early so you can view them privately.”
“Thank you,” Alice said, grateful for his understanding.
She had to see if she recognized any of the victims. Perhaps seeing a familiar face would jolt her awareness, be that stray thread that would unravel memories that had taken a lifetime to knit.
“It’ll be all right,” Derek said softly once Hannah had left with the tray. He was looking at her intently, almost as if trying to work something out. Perhaps he was wondering why she had been the one to survive, or how long she meant to stay.
“Derek,” Hannah called from downstairs.
Derek looked like he was about to say something but seemed to change his mind and left without another word.
Chapter 13
The gown Hannah had brought was several inches short and too large in the bosom, even with the laces pulled tight, but it was dry and sufficiently somber. Hannah had given her a starched cap to cover her freshly washed hair and a woolen shawl to ward off the chill of the October morning. The shoes and hose were her own, since they’d had sufficient time to dry.
October is such a beautiful month, Alice thought as Derek handed her into the trap. The trees were crimson and gold against the backdrop of aquamarine sky, the air fresh and crisp, the field they passed dotted with dozens of fat-bellied pumpkins. The bell tolled again in the distance, and Alice dragged her mind back to the task at hand. She didn’t care to admit it to Derek, but she was frightened. She must have seen corpses before, most people had, but these were victims of drowning. She could so easily have been among them. Had Ben and Josh not found her in time, she might have died there on that beach, just slipped away without ever regaining consciousness. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms, fingers of fear stroking her spine.
“Are you all right?” Derek asked, glancing sideways at her. “You’ve gone pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I know you think seeing their faces will help you remember, but if it doesn’t, the only thing you’ll be left with is a memory of seventeen bloated corpses.” Alice winced, and he looked instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. That was
thoughtless of me.”
“It’s all right,” Alice assured him. “You’ve simply spoken the truth. Even if I do recognize someone, I’ll still be left with a memory I’d sooner forget. There’s no escaping it.”
“I will be right there by your side. You can lean on me,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile as the town of Milford came into view.
Town was too grand a name for what lay ahead. There were about two dozen clapboard buildings, some lining a wide street, others set further back. The church, with its tall spire, was easily recognizable, as was the tavern that bore a green and gold sign proclaiming it to be the Blackwell Arms. There was an official-looking building at the end of the street that might have been the town hall. The rest were small shops and private residences. Most had yards enclosed by picket fences, complete with outbuildings and neat vegetable patches.
The people all seemed to be going about their business, women hanging out laundry, two men unloading casks from a wagon parked in front of the tavern, and children playing a game of ball and hoop on a patch of grass near the town hall. Several people were already heading toward the church, and they nodded and tipped their hats to her, as if she were some visiting dignitary rather than a woman spit out by the sea before it had a chance to claim her soul. She nodded back but didn’t make eye contact with anyone, except for an auburn-haired young woman who stared at her openly, her face tight with displeasure.
Alice turned to Derek in her confusion but, when she saw the look of dismay he bestowed on the woman, thought she understood. This woman had a claim on Derek Wilder. He should have been escorting her, not some stranger who was now living in his home. Alice tried to smile, to let the woman know that Derek was simply being gentlemanly, but the woman bristled like a cat, probably mistaking Alice’s smile of apology for one of smugness.
“Don’t worry about her,” Derek said softly, a note of pride in his voice. He clearly liked that the auburn-haired beauty was jealous. Her passionate reaction was firewood for the pyre of his ego.
“I didn’t mean to—” Alice began, but couldn’t finish the sentence. She had nothing to apologize for. She was going to church to see people who’d been alive a mere day ago. People she must have met, spoken to, even laughed with. She wasn’t here to steal anyone’s admirer, or intended, if that was what Derek was to that woman. She had no interest in him. The only person she was interested in right now was herself. She was like a porcelain doll, pretty on the outside but completely hollow on the inside, devoid of thoughts or feelings outside of fear and confusion. She wasn’t a threat to anyone, only to herself.
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 5