"Yes, Papa," agreed James, although he knew in his heart his father was wrong. "Thank you," he repeated with a heartfelt look, and Papa climbed to his feet and came around the desk. He gave James a momentary embrace then clapped him on the back.
"And don't you worry about the land along the Ashley River," Papa said in a satisfied tone, "I have just the man to oversee clearing the timber. We can move some of our people across the peninsula."
James could only lift his chin in a show of agreement. Miss Applewaite would not like that, for she'd said she wished to keep it as an investment for her brother-in-law, although she would no longer control it once they married. Cadwell wanted to buy it. It would certainly cover the cost of a new business.
He smiled again when Papa gazed at him with affection. Really, these expressions of true happiness came easily. He'd won over Phoebe Applewaite and would soon be at sea and practically in command. He would be a captain in no time.
MAMA BURST INTO THE room where Phoebe and one of the maids were packing her things. The sun shined as bright as a narcissus and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Phoebe looked over her shoulder when Mama clapped her hands and skipped across the room with her arms outstretched.
"My darling girl," she cried, shaking her head in awe. "Why did I ever worry so about you?" Phoebe gave her a sheepish smile, aware Mama was as much excited as she but for different reasons.
She gave Phoebe a tight embrace and held her there. "We won't ever have to worry about the future again," she whispered.
Phoebe wondered if she meant her own or Phoebe's.
Mama took her by the elbows and stepped back. "I have given my permission," she cried, "and before the autumn harvest, you will be a Charleston bride. My," she added, as she looked around the bright bedroom, "this will all be yours someday." She returned her regard to Phoebe. "Of course, you will need to keep a room for your old mama."
"Mama!" chided Phoebe, resisting the urge to shush her, "that is a long way off, and you know Daniel has plans for you when he and Winnifred take over the house."
"Yes," said Mama, looking almost regretful. "He will refurbish the house once the crops make a profit. Winnifred can't bear living out in the countryside even when it's hot in town. It is nice though," Mama hinted, "to have other options." She flounced down onto the thick featherbed like a little girl. "I imagine it's very cool here at Sandy Creek in the summer." She had the grace to look thoughtful, although it began to feel calculating to Phoebe.
She folded a green shawl in halves and rolled it neatly. "I daresay we won't spend an inordinate amount of time out here, what with a shop to keep up and Mr. Hathaway at sea."
"At sea?" Mama exclaimed. "Why would he want to leave you, my darling girl? And don't be silly, you have no need for a shop now." She looked up from the bed. "All I ever wanted was to see you safely settled, and look, you will soon be a wealthy woman. You'll never want for anything."
Phoebe tried to conjure up a smile for her face. Humming to herself, Mama leaped up and dashed into the hall, presumably to find more help to help her pack. She seemed to have become helpless since arriving at Sandy Bank, letting everyone do everything for her.
Such was the way, mused Phoebe with a shrug. She dropped onto the bed. She had slept little last night, what with the announcement the day before and a long afternoon yesterday of preliminary celebrations. Mama and Mrs. Hathaway practically had the entire engagement party planned, and yet it had just been decided.
She felt her mouth twitch into a reluctant smile. Mr. Hathaway—James—he insisted she call him after losing to her in a game of Spillikans, had been quite the good sport. He cheerfully listened to their mamas, smiled in agreement, and even made suggestions. Although Mrs. Hathaway was happy to have another reason to throw a ball, they narrowed it down to something small and private at their home in town.
Phoebe rubbed her fingers together, looking down at her hands now well-rested from the hours of sewing she was so used to. She hadn't had a headache in weeks. Sandy Bank had been a nice distraction, but it was time to get back to work.
She worried her lip, her mind turning this way and that. She'd spoken with Daniel again about the land, about buying her share so that she could use the money to lease a store. She had explained this to James, as she did not want him to think she expected his family to set her up. Marriage would not magically give her a shop on the corner of East Bay and Church. She'd learned long ago that one had to make her own magic if wishes were to come true.
Brushing away her concerns, Phoebe climbed up and started to pleat her handsome ballgown for the journey home. She dismissed the solemn maid who'd come in to help. It made her uncomfortable, the service of a person who was not to be paid, and worse, who had no choice in the matter. The halls and grounds of Sandy Bank ran like a very efficient man-o-war; no wonder James was so inclined to sail.
She could understand how the serious, rigid business of the plantation made him uncomfortable with his hopeful spirit and need for cheer but wondered why he would go to sea when life aboard a wooden ship was much the same. Sandy Bank was a busy hive of worker bees in a beautiful Eden, but even here, every moment of the day was scheduled on the calendar—and romance was arranged.
DANIEL AND WINNIFRED met Phoebe and Mama at the mouth of the Wando River to accompany them home. As the ferry sloshed along the fast-moving Cooper, Daniel came up beside Phoebe.
"Your mama has Winnifred ridiculously excited."
"I know," murmured Phoebe without looking back at them. Instead, she watched tall trees on the opposite side of the water slip by. "It's not like it's tomorrow, it's many months away. We haven't quite decided although it will be before harvest time."
"You're happy then?" he probed, and she smiled. He smirked at her.
"Really, Daniel," she reproved, "Mr. Hathaway is a good person and a charming companion. Don't underestimate him."
"To do what? Buy a bigger carriage perhaps?"
"Bah!" Phoebe fluttered her fingers to wave away his disdain. "He just likes to make people laugh, but he does have a serious side."
Daniel made a choking sound like he didn't believe it.
"Honestly," she huffed, "how well can you get to know a man playing cards? Although he's at the shipyard now, he worked for his papa at the Exchange for some time. Not to mention, he's quite the fishmonger in his own right—for brick I mean. Their businesses do quite well."
She slid her brother-in-law a sideways look to see if he understood. "He's always wanted to sail, and perhaps in time and with more experience he may commandeer a vessel, maybe one that carries our exports—and without fees!" She liked that idea.
"Your mama says he has been offered a position aboard the Lily."
"Yes," acknowledged Phoebe, "as a first mate."
"You won't see much of one another then," mused Daniel. He eyed her with some deliberation, and she gave a half-shrug. "That's all well and good. I'll be busy with my shop."
He laughed. "You are still willing then, to sell your land tract to me? Hathaway approves? I can give you an advance, enough to find a place to rent. We can do it in my name if you like, and Mr. Hathaway can change it over once you're wed."
"I've mentioned it to him." Phoebe bit her lip. Was this the moment she'd been waiting for? It seemed as if the stars had aligned for her and James. They would both get to taste of their dreams and enjoy them—together.
JAMES FELT AS JAUNTY as he was sure he looked as he trotted Dogberry to the carriage stoop of the Applewaites' home. He rapped on the door and waited for the comely Charity to open it. Once she allowed him inside, he found Phoebe sewing in the front parlor where the light was good. She looked as beautiful as ever as her petite frame jumped up to greet him.
"Good morning, Mr. Hathaway," she welcomed him. Her peach complexion glowed in the rays of the late morning, and dark brows curved over her handsome eyes just so made him want to kiss both eyelids one at a time. Perhaps he should refrain, he told himself. She'd think him a fool
in love rather than a partner in a very affectionate arrangement.
"Tomorrow is the day then," she remarked, slipping back down onto the settle. He sat beside her and took her hand and kissed it.
"It is," he beamed. A flush on her cheeks filled him with giddy satisfaction that she should be so happy for him. "I shall be gone a month at least plus a few more days I'd wager, but it all depends on the weather gauge." James saw the sewing she'd set aside. "You are working at a frantic pace as well, I see."
Phoebe looked satisfied. "Mama has less time to assist me, what with her excitement for our engagement party. I, however, have an order from Mr. Payne, and there are things to prepare and put away as inventory for the new shop."
"Yes," James agreed. "I suppose we should look for a place," he murmured, realizing now would be a good time to put things in motion.
"Daniel is already on the hunt. There is the leather shop in the market that no longer does business. He is looking into it and will let me know."
"Your mother will not like it," James said, wagging his finger.
"Pish, my dear," she said in a serious tone, "I may have a space acquired before you return."
"Is that so?" he questioned her in surprise. He could not be any more impressed. "Do you need any assistance?"
"No," she said, and he watched her hold back a smile of pride. He'd assumed he would be providing the income for this endeavor; had thought it an upspoken condition of their marriage although she'd suggested selling her land. Had she saved enough to do it all on her own?
"I shall have enough, thank you," she continued. "It will take time to get it furnished and stocked, but I'm in no hurry now, what with the lovely weather and our plans."
To think she would do such a thing all on her own. James could not reign in his admiration. He must have looked like an idiot staring into her eyes. "You make me very determined," he promised, "to succeed handsomely at my new command."
"I'm sure you will do wonderfully," she assured him. "I believe in you."
"You do?" He let a chuckle escape. "You have never seen me paddle a pirogue or hoist a sail, but you believe," he repeated in wonder. "More than others I must say." He suddenly wanted to kiss her again; not like he had at Sandy Bank but harder and deeper to show her how much he loved her.
Love? The thought of it rattled him for the briefest moment then it settled across his shoulders like an embrace and warmed him to his toes. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Thank you," he mumbled.
The apples of Phoebe's cheeks turned pinker. James watched a sunbeam from the window behind them make her hair shine like sunset. "You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."
A laugh warbled out, and Phoebe chided him with, "I'm sure that's not true." Before she could say more, he touched the deep crease above her lip to quiet her.
"I've always thought you to be handsome even when you were small with your freckles and orange hair," he teased, "but now that I know you, which is a privilege, by the way, I have the happy advantage to study your lovely dark eyes, your soft skin that glows like apricots, and your thoughtful little mouth that takes my breath away when you smile."
"Now, James," said Phoebe, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as her blush deepened, "it's not my first dance."
He would have laughed, but he meant every word he said, and he wanted her to know it. She never frowned at him anymore, and this had changed everything. "I may be a little thick with my compliments from time to time," he admitted, "but I have never meant it more than I do now. You are a beautiful and strong woman. It makes me..." he stammered, "I mean I feel all grown up at last, Phoebe, and well, like I'll never meet a better lady or want anyone else at my side."
She bit her lip, and he saw the yearning in her eyes to believe him. "It's true," he promised and then forced a laugh. "I'm afraid I've quite fallen out of love with myself," he confessed with a tight smile, "and into it with someone else."
He couldn't bring himself to say it any clearer than that, because his heart hammered and his hands trembled with a strange anxiety—no—a happiness he had never known. Good heavens, thought James, I love her so, this little spinster.
Breathless, he felt like a silly dolt but could not laugh at himself again because she looked breathless, too. Knowing he would be gone for a time, he didn't think it inappropriate to show her how much he meant what he was trying to say. He leaned down to her full lips and watched her eyes flutter shut. Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it—
"Mr. Hathaway!" Mrs. Applewaite burst into the room so suddenly the door slapped the back of the wall. "Oops!" she chortled. He wondered if her outburst was because she'd pushed the door open too hard or because she'd caught him face to face with her daughter.
"How delightful to see you! We thought you would be off soon—today or tomorrow."
James casually repositioned himself on the settee but left his hand in Phoebe's grip. He pasted a friendly smile on his face and tried to act entertained while Mrs. Applewaite went on and on about his new adventure aboard the Lily. Rather than heartily agree as he usually would, he listened patiently while sneaking sideways glances at Phoebe who seemed bemused. Either that, he thought with an inward smile, or she was cooling down, too, and devastated to have missed his passionate-to-be farewell kiss.
ALTHOUGH JAMES CALLED to tell her goodbye before his ship's departure, Phoebe felt some sense of obligation to see the Lily off on her maiden voyage. The pomp and circumstance for the new vessel occurred at the shipyard, but Phoebe saw her leave from the blustery shore between the fort and the wharf. She slipped off her shoes with the sand a bit warmer now and watched the narrow pennant of the company's colors snap in the breeze as Lily drifted downriver and across the bay.
Try as she might, Phoebe could not imagine James standing at the helm with a captain or coxswain with a serious look on his face, but then again, she had seen facets of him the past few weeks that she never imagined. A sad, privileged little boy, quarantined to his room one illness after another, he'd found joy in the creeks and tributaries that gently stroked the peninsula of Charleston once he could escape his bed. On the water, he'd discovered animals, friends, fresh air, and freedom. She almost envied the stubborn resilience with which he pushed back against what the world expected of a planter's son.
Phoebe's heart burned at the thought of him. He was adorably handsome and always filled with some sort of enthusiasm, even for little things. With his slanted jaw and bright eyes, it was impossible not to look upon him without some tingle of admiration.
For someone who'd loitered around taverns and gaming tables for years, he had an impressive ethic when applied. She understood now the restrictive expectations of his future had held him down like a ship with a bowline in the water, spinning aimlessly with every wind. He seemed surer of his course now and radiated a different kind of confidence.
She squeezed her fingers into her palms. They were to be married. Stiff, uptight Phoebe Applewaite, who spoke haltingly around her peers, became rather clumsy at any attention, and had very little to recommend her except obsessive industriousness with a needle.
A smile tugged at her lips. He did not think of her that way. He spoke to her like she was his equal, took her dreams seriously, and had on more than one occasion called her handsome. Perhaps she was not as plain or peculiar as she had convinced herself throughout the years.
Her heart warmed at the distant view of Lily gliding out of the harbor. She felt excited. Happy for him. Happy for herself. She was in love.
Love? Phoebe's smile faded, her eyes blinded by the sun now well above the horizon. She closed them and took a deep breath. Yes, it was true. She had known it for some time, but now she could accept it and welcome the happiness that came with it.
Phoebe Applewaite would be all right. She would no longer be a burden on her family. She would soon have a shop to organize and run. And finally, she would not trudge throughout the rest of her life alone. She would have a husband, and yes, by the b
y, she just happened to have fallen head over heels for him—again.
CHAPTER NINE
The Lily reached the glowing tropical isles of the West Indies within two weeks. It was everything James ever dreamed. He was aboard a ship, with a real post, and not under the watchful eye of Papa or Mr. Albermarle. They delivered their rice, cotton, and dry timber to two more ports of call, and after allowing the men and himself to enjoy the exotic benefits, including a pineapple to take to Phoebe and rum for Benjamin, the Lily turned northeast for her return to the States.
Elated with the adventures on white, sandy shores and not missing Sandy Bank at all, James rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet waiting for his shift to end. Captain Ogden had retired hours ago. The older man seemed happy to let James earn his epaulettes, but he must soon relieve him so James could sleep and rest.
He'd never slept so little, but the energy of the waves pulsed through him as they danced past the ship so he had no issue waking at odd hours to make his way to the top deck. He loved the men already. They were a good crew, industrious, and easy to get along with—an able group of God-fearing sailors in an assembly of colors and talents.
Two of them were not free men. They wore copper slave badges engraved with their identities and skills. It was cruel, thought James, as he'd only known the Africans in Charleston to wear them. He extended more patience and kindness to them than he did the others, although he could not bring himself to act stern and speak harshly to anyone. He left that to the bosun. All he wanted to do was manage the wind and the sails, and imagine life in the different places beyond the horizon. He wondered what New Holland was like on the far side of the world and if he'd ever have the chance to sail there.
A Captain's Bride (Gentlemen of the Coast Book 2) Page 13
