The Brideship Wife

by Leslie Howard

  She squeezed my hand. “Well, this brings me to the subject of you and John.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you want to pursue that relationship and see where it takes you, you have my blessing.”

  For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I was drawn to John and had played with the idea of marriage to him. I was still trying to decide what I would say if he asked, but I never expected Hari to be so open to the possibility. After all the secrets between us, it felt like we were truly starting over. Gratitude and love for my sister swept over me, bringing tears.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Hari’s health and spirits improved dramatically, and we made the best of our island stopover, packing each day with splendid outings and wondrous sightseeing. We both abandoned our corsets—a first for Hari—and donned loose-fitting walking dresses and boots. The weather stayed cool but sunny, and we tramped for miles along the coast and over the hills, stopping often to marvel at the unparalleled sights, including the exotic array of birds and sea life. The highlight was the penguin colony, where we stayed for hours, laughing at the antics of these most unusual flightless birds.

  That week, it felt as if the past years had disappeared, and Hari and I were children once more, free to roam and discover at will. We were just two sisters, sharing old jokes and retelling the stories of our girlhood. We answered to no one. They were priceless days that I would treasure in the weeks to come.

  And then, before we knew it, it was our last night in Port Stanley. We were due to weigh anchor that evening, as soon as the captain had finished loading the fresh food for the final leg of the journey, and Hari and I decided that we would no longer hide in our cabin at dinner.

  “Everyone will have heard of Charles’s marriage by now. Let the gossips have their day,” she said. “I no longer care.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. After we dressed in our finest gowns, we entered the dining room. Lady Persephone watched our progress through the room, but she made no offer to have us join her, Sir Richard, and the Burks. A few others looked up, surprised to see us in their midst after so long, but for the most part, they were engrossed in their own company.

  A waiter beckoned us to a table for two. “Good evening, ladies. The captain asked me to invite all first- and second-class passengers to a dance party on the main deck after dinner. A post-storm celebration. In the meantime, please enjoy the special supper he brought on board for tonight—Falkland Island game hens in butter cream sauce.”

  “Shall we go to the dance?” I asked Harriet. “It’s been so long since we’ve been to a party.” The last one we had attended was Hari’s infamous soirée that she had christened “A Fairy’s Garden Party.” That night had changed our lives forever, but tonight we had so much to celebrate.

  “I’ve never seen you so excited about a party,” Harriet said, a small smile on her lips. “You usually hate polite conversation.”

  “I guess I’ve changed,” I replied. I was buzzing with excitement and for once, I pushed my dinner away, anxious for the fun to start. I waited for Hari to finish, heartened at her new robust appetite, but underneath the table my toes were tapping.

  When we made our way to the main deck, it was already filled with an assortment of chairs and stools set in a semicircle. In the middle an odd group of musicians was preparing to strike up the first tune. I recognized their faces as fellow passengers and my heart quickened at the thought of them coming together to put on a dance. A few large, wooden chairs stood empty in the back row, and we claimed them as the volunteer band started a fiery jig.

  I was so engrossed in the music that I didn’t notice John approach and extend his hand. “May I have this dance, Charlotte?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

  I felt a stir of excitement, but I hesitated, looking at Hari. She just nodded and smiled. This was the new Hari, I realized. She was seeing life through a different lens.

  “I would love to,” I said, placing my hand in John’s large one.

  He gently pulled me to my feet and carved a path to the dance floor, where couples were beginning to gather. He began a frenzied step dance punctuated by wrapping his great arm around my waist and twirling me through the air. I was a poor, uncoordinated dancer, but that mattered little as my feet rarely touched the ground. At first, I tried to find my footing, but eventually I gave myself over to John’s lead and trusted him not to let go of me, as I was sure I might fly overboard.

  By the third dance, my hair had broken free of the pins that held it and my carefully constricted chignon slid from the top of my head to one side. At a break in the music, I made a rather inept attempt to fix it.

  “Don’t,” John said, leaning in close. “I rather prefer the mermaid look.”

  I laughed and, once more, felt the energy between us change. And at the moment, the music slowed. I went to return to my seat, but John took my hand.

  “You can’t leave just when I finally get a chance to put my arms around you,” he whispered in my ear.

  His warm hand pressed the small of my back, and I put my right hand in his and the other on his shoulder. For a man of his size, he was surprisingly graceful, and I felt equally elegant as we covered the floor with great swirling steps.

  “You’re a wonderful dancer,” I said, looking up at him. My curiosity got the better of me. “It seems you’ve had plenty of dancing partners before me.”

  “Yes, many,” he said. “But none like you. I certainly didn’t expect to find someone so charming and intelligent on the voyage.”

  We continued to dance our slow waltz, and I had nowhere to look but into his cobalt-blue eyes. The rest of the world fell away. There was no boat under our feet, no people around us.

  At the end of the evening, I scanned the seats for Harriet, but she must have already gone back to the cabin. John walked me to my door. Other passengers lingered on deck, so he politely kissed my hand before heading off to his own room. As I watched him go, I thought about what had transpired between us in the last weeks. I felt such a strong attraction to him, but a sliver of doubt lingered in my heart—not in John, but in myself. It was my own words that came back to me, what I had told Hari about the emigrant women being on the verge of real freedom.

  As I stood on the threshold, I heard the metallic rumble of the ship’s anchor followed by a gentle roll of the deck beneath my feet. We had set sail for the dreaded Cape Horn and the bottom of the earth.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I woke at first light to the sounds of someone being sick.

  “Harriet?” I croaked, rubbing my eyes. “Is that you?”

  I stumbled out into the main room, where Hari was pooled in a heap on the floor, vomiting into the blue basin. She looked up at me, face pale.

  “I don’t feel well, Char,” she said hoarsely.

  I went to her side and pulled her hair out of her face. Slowly, she told me that she had been vomiting for a couple of hours, and the pain in her stomach was getting worse. I helped her back into bed, then ran to get Dr. Carson.

  “Others have this as well,” he told me. He had examined Harriet and given her something to calm her stomach, and she was now asleep. “It came on so quickly that I think it must be some sort of food poisoning.”

  “But I’m not sick,” I said, then I remembered the dinner of game hens I had pushed away. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  “At this point I don’t know.”

  I detected a note of urgency in his voice that I had come to know. “Tell me honestly, Dr. Carson.”

  He sighed. “I wish she hadn’t relapsed with the drug taking. She’ll need all her strength to recover from this. The key is getting her to hold down fluids. I’ll leave her with you. If she wakes up, have her suck on a cloth dipped in water.”

  After touching my arm lightly in sympathy, he closed the door behind him softly, but the hollow thud was enough to wake Hari from her fitful sleep. I sat gingerly on the edge of her bed.

  “How do I lo
ok?” Harriet asked with a faint smile.

  “As beautiful as always,” I said, mustering a grin of my own. “More important, how are you feeling?”

  “Better now. Just weak.”

  “Rest. I’m here to take care of you.” I handed Hari the damp cloth, and her stomach seemed to tolerate the tiny bit of fluid.

  There was a soft knock at the cabin door, and I went to answer it. John stood at the threshold, concern on his face. “I just ran into Dr. Carson. How is she?”

  “We hope she’s on the mend,” I said. “Just a matter of rest now.”

  “Glad to hear it. Sarah sends her best,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. “I don’t want to pull you away. I just wanted to see you. I’ll check again later.”

  “Thank you, John.”

  He went to leave, then turned back and offered a small smile. When he’d gone, I came back into the room. “That was John, Hari, wishing you a speedy recovery.”

  At the mention of his name, Hari’s brow creased. “Charlotte, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve heard something about John. Reverend Burk saw the two of you dancing and bombarded me on my way back to my cabin.”

  Nothing the Burks had to say was ever good, and my stomach knotted. “What did he say?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this. Truly I am, but he’s not the man you think he is.” Hari’s hand reached for mine. It was as cold as ice. “He has a fiancée waiting for him back in England. The banns haven’t been read in church yet, but there’s some sort of understanding between him and a young woman named Agnes.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I gripped the edge of the bed to steady myself. So he had not been sincere, I realized. He had a fiancée. I was a dalliance, someone to while away the time with on a long, boring voyage. How could I have been so trusting? Would I never learn?

  “Charlotte?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, swallowing the lump that had come to my throat. “I’m angry at myself. You tried to caution me that we didn’t really know him. I wouldn’t listen.”

  “I am sor—” She was cut off by a coughing fit.

  I got another damp cloth for her to suck on and the bit of moisture in her mouth eased her parched throat. When her cough settled down, she began to speak. She had things she needed to tell me, about money, she said, but my mind had shut down with the knowledge of Agnes’s existence. She was probably the daughter of someone wealthy, someone connected. How could I think John would be interested in me, a poor woman from a disgraced family?

  “Char,” she said, bringing me back. I roused myself from my daze. Hari seemed to have gone limp, her face turning the colour of alabaster. I ran the cloth over her forehead and cheeks, trying to bring a healthy tint back to them.

  Her hand went to her bosom. “My chest feels so tight, and there’s pain.”

  I studied her face. There was swelling around her eyes and throat. “I’ll fetch Dr. Carson.”

  “No! Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone. I feel so tired. I just need to sleep.”

  “Just for a little while,” I said, relenting. I tried to make her more comfortable by smoothing the sheet over her and tucking it in, then I lowered the lantern light and stroked her forehead, urging her to sleep, and she finally drifted off for a couple of hours.

  * * *

  “Char, are you there?” She woke with a start. Her eyes looked feverish, but her hand was cold when it sought mine.

  I leaned over her so she could see me. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.” The swelling I had noticed earlier was worse, and now her colour had a distinct green tinge to it. “Should I fetch Dr. Carson now?”

  She ignored the question. “Do you remember the day Papa came home with our jewellery boxes? Birthday presents for each of us. We were over the moon with excitement. Remember?”

  I smiled, my eyes growing moist at the memory. “How could I forget? You let me choose mine first. I loved the red one.”

  “And we played such games with them, pretending we were fine ladies dressing in our jewels for the ball.”

  “Do you recall the play jewellery we made out of string and beads? Yours were always the best.”

  She smiled weakly. “Always keep my box safe, Char. Keep it for me.”

  “Of course,” I said, wiping her forehead once more. “I promise to look after it until you’re better, then you can care for it yourself.”

  Hari dropped off again, and then her breathing changed. Her chest rose and fell with long slow inhales followed by short puffy exhales. I tried to rouse her to take more fluids, but I couldn’t wake her. I needed Dr. Carson. I ran to get him, and he came immediately, but by the time we got back to the cabin, Harriet’s breathing had slowed even more. After a quick check, Dr. Carson looked at me and shook his head. My heart dropped to my stomach like a stone. My sister was dying.

  I went to her and held her in my arms. “I love you, Hari,” I whispered. “You’ve always been there for me, caring for me, looking out for me. More of a mother than a sister. I’m so sorry for the pain I caused you.”

  Her eyelids flickered open for a moment. There was one last breath and then no more. I sat with her a long time, holding her head against my chest and weeping as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  What happened next was a blur. I know that John appeared and enveloped me in his arms. I couldn’t stop myself. I buried myself in his massive chest, letting his presence comfort me while Dr. Carson administered to Harriet’s body.

  When my sobs had finally ceased, I realised that I had to focus if I was going to get through the next few hours and give Hari a proper burial at sea. I pulled back from John.

  “I need you to say a few words,” I stammered. “I don’t want Reverend Burk to do it. I want this to be dignified.”

  “Of course, but is that all?” He searched my face. “I can be of more support for you if you’ll only let me.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. Harriet’s final words still echoed in my head, so I said nothing, and he left me. As soon as he was gone, I turned to face the cabin. Harriet’s presence was everywhere. Her clothes, her shoes, and even her hairbrushes. I couldn’t stand to see her things scattered about. Fighting fresh tears, I hurried through into my room and quickly changed into a sombre gown and found my hat and gloves.

  I made my way through first class and then to the lower stern deck, accepting the sympathetic nods of the passengers I met along the way. Captain Hellyer. Dr. Carson. Sir Richard stepped forward and patted my arm as I passed, but there was no sign of Lady Persephone or the Burks. Perhaps they were ill, but I vaguely recalled Dr. Carson saying everyone else was on the mend.

  The ship’s carpenter had already managed to hammer together a casket out of rough wooden planks and square-headed nails. I stared at it, unable to connect my beautiful, living, breathing sister with the inert body in the box before me. Wasn’t it just yesterday that we had a glorious time on the island together? How could I know they would be our last happy moments?

  I felt my chest heave just as a small, delicate arm slipped into mine. I looked over and was surprised to see that Sarah had found a way to sneak out. She reached out her other arm and held me close, her head on my shoulder, and then Captain Hellyer cleared his throat, signalling to John.

  As John spoke about life and loss, I turned my head to the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sparkling ocean a bloodred. And finally my gaze rested on the frothing wake that would soon accept the body of my beloved Hari.

  When John was done, two crewmen stepped forward, and I recognized Sam from the boiler room. He touched his cap to me, then moved forward with his partner to close the coffin lid. They hoisted it on their shoulders and moved towards the rail.

  “Goodbye, Harriet,” I whispered.

  Then they let the coffin slide off their shoulders and into the sea, and my broken heart went with it.

&n
bsp; Chapter Thirty

  After Harriet’s death, time seemed to lurch from excruciatingly slow moments of deep grief to whole days that slipped by unnoticed. I knew I had to write to Wiggles, but when I sat down to do it, I didn’t know where to begin. How could I tell her that our Hari was dead? In the end, I found the words, however inadequate. I asked her to tell both Charles and Cousin Edward and to post a notice of Hari’s death at our church. And finally, I gave her the address of Hari’s bank and asked her to inform them of her death. Since I was Hari’s sole heir, all her funds should be forwarded to the Royal Mail office in Victoria, to my attention. I included the death certificate that Dr. Carson provided, then sealed the envelope. I would post it at our next stop, San Francisco Bay.

  Sarah got special permission to visit me, and she helped me deal with Hari’s things. I would never wear any of her clothes and decided to give them to Sarah, Florence, Emma, Alice, and the other emigrant women. Several of them told me that they planned to throw their stained and filthy clothes overboard and don one of Hari’s fine dresses for their arrival. It brought a little sunshine to my days to see their gratitude.

  I packed the rest of Hari’s things in my own trunk, though I broke down again when I came across her jewellery box. I tucked it away with my belongings. Our twin boxes would stay with me forever.

  For the next two weeks, I took meals in my room. Once, when I forced myself out the door to have tea, Sir Richard approached me.

  “Deepest sympathies, my dear,” he said as he doffed his silk hat. “I’d just like to say that I’m dashed sorry you won’t be joining us at Governor Douglas’s residence as originally planned. I did so enjoy our talks together and hoped for more in Victoria, but Lady Persephone overruled me. She says it’s quite out of the question, what with everything that’s happened. I did try to get her to change her mind but, well, you know.”

  I thanked him. When Charles divorced Harriet, we knew the Douglases would not welcome us. Despite the unknowns, I simply didn’t have the energy to even contemplate my future in Victoria.