A Reluctant Bride

by Jody Hedlund

  Even so, she couldn’t find it within herself to smile back. “Are you saying poor Sarah will be sick for the whole long voyage?”

  “It will likely come and go, depending upon the severity of the ship’s movement. But yes, I’m afraid most of the voyage will be very unpleasant for her.”

  “Should she be taken back to land?”

  “No,” Sarah croaked, her ashen face creasing with anxiety. “Please don’t make me leave the ship. I ain’t got nowhere to go, no place to live, no job.”

  She tried to sit up, but Mercy eased her down, her chest swelling with compassion. She understood the girl’s plight all too well. “Of course we won’t be making you leave the ship. But you must promise you’ll be strong and that you won’t give up.”

  Sinking into the bed and closing her eyes, Sarah nodded weakly. “I promise.”

  “Good girl.” Mercy brushed Sarah’s loose hair away from her face. “The voyage’ll be right difficult, but we can’t forget what awaits us on the other side.”

  Again Sarah nodded. “I won’t forget.”

  Joseph rose and crossed the cabin to the drawers containing his medicines. He located what remained of the wormwood ointment he’d concocted during his last voyage. He opened the tin and breathed in the scent of mint that mingled with the ground wormwood, wine vinegar, and olive oil.

  He’d been in a deep sleep when the knock awoke him. With a pounding heart, he’d jumped from the bed and was glad now he’d had the foresight to slide on his trousers before throwing open the door.

  In previous voyages, he’d been disturbed only by sailors or the ships’ officers needing his services. Without any women aboard, he hadn’t needed to consider his own modesty or that of others.

  But obviously he needed to be more careful now.

  He glanced at Mercy, who was still kneeling next to Sarah. Her eyes had widened at the sight of his nearly bare body. He’d immediately recognized her blue-green eyes but hadn’t been able to place her until she’d started speaking. The kindness in her tone took him immediately back to the Shoreditch Dispensary.

  The lantern light highlighted her hair, showing it to be a soft gold. Apparently, in the urgency of caring for the sick girl, she’d neglected to pin up her hair, which hung in thick waves down her back nearly to her waist. He didn’t recall such fairness from their previous meeting. Of course, he’d been overly tired at the time, and she herself had been harried. And the occasion had been clouded with grief over the death neither of them had been able to prevent.

  He couldn’t remember the name of the child she’d brought in, but he did recall thinking what an incompetent mother Mercy had been, only to discover later from Bates that she wasn’t the child’s mother after all.

  As though sensing his perusal, she looked up at him. He quickly shifted his attention to the drawer and drew out another medicine—this one a tonic. “So, Miss Wilkins, I must admit that when I first met you, I assumed you were the mother of the infant you brought to me.”

  “I figured as much, sir.”

  “And you felt no need to correct me?”

  “I was more concerned about Clara than my reputation.”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting back to Mercy. Her expression was resigned, as though she was accustomed to being insulted on a regular basis.

  She certainly was beautiful, especially the way her long lashes framed her eyes, making them appear bigger and more luminous. For one so pretty, he was rather surprised she hadn’t already been claimed. Surely she had any number of men vying for her and could have her pick of a husband at the snap of her fingers. So why join a bride ship?

  His question begged for an answer, but he was too polite to speak about so private a matter.

  “You can rest assured,” he said, closing the drawer, “this time I won’t insult you by insinuating that Sarah is your daughter.”

  “Thank ye, sir.” She ducked her head, taking him much too seriously since Sarah was too old to be her child.

  “Dr. Bates informed me of your generosity in caring for many of the children in your neighborhood.”

  She only gave a slight nod to acknowledge his statement.

  “And Sarah?” he asked. “Is she a youth from your neighborhood?”

  “I just met her, sir. On the train ride here.”

  He stopped short and stared at Mercy with growing fascination.

  “Is there anything, anything at all I can do to help her?” Mercy stroked the girl’s cheek.

  “She’s an angel of mercy, though she doesn’t know it.” Bates’s words rushed back to Joseph’s mind.

  “Doctor?” Her lashes swept up to reveal trusting and generous eyes. She clearly gave of herself with no thought of getting anything in return. He’d do well to follow her example.

  “I have a couple of remedies.” He started to swish the liquid in the bottle he was holding. “Hopefully they will lessen the discomfort and allow her to keep down some sustenance.”

  Since Sarah seemed to be resting more comfortably, Joseph used the lull to administer medicine. He lined her nostrils with the minty wormwood ointment and then gave her a spoonful of the tonic. Seeing that Sarah was tolerating the medicine, he allowed Mercy to feed her a few sips of water. Before Mercy could finish, Sarah fell asleep.

  Mercy stood and stretched. “Do you think she’ll endure the voyage, Doctor?”

  “With you watching over her, I have a feeling she’ll be just fine.”

  Her cheeks flushed at his words of praise, and she buried her fingers into the folds of her skirt, twisting the blue material. “I best be checking on the other girls and making sure they’re getting their rations.”

  Before he could respond, several taps drew him to the door.

  He opened it to reveal a tall, dour-faced woman. “Good morning, Doctor. I’m looking for two of my charges. I’ve been informed they are likely in your company.”

  Without waiting for permission to enter, the woman poked her head past him. At the sight of Mercy, the woman’s lips pinched into tight disapproval. “Mercy Wilkins?”

  Mercy curtsied. “Yes, Mrs. Robb.”

  “What is our number-one rule for this voyage?”

  “I thought Sarah was dying, ma’am,” Mercy rushed to explain. “That I did.”

  “Our number-one rule, Mercy?”

  “I didn’t think the doctor counted, ma’am.”

  “The rule?” the tall woman insisted.

  Mercy’s chin dipped. “No fraternizing with the other passengers.”

  “Especially no fraternizing with whom?”

  “With the men, ma’am.”

  The exchange was happening so rapidly that Joseph scarcely had time to comprehend who this Mrs. Robb was and what she was insinuating.

  “Mrs. Robb,” he interrupted. “Please let me assure you that Miss Wilkins did the right thing by bringing Sarah here—”

  “Doctor,” she replied in a sharp but calm tone, “did anyone put you in charge of the women on this ship?”

  Her condescending question prickled his scalp. “When someone on this ship becomes ill, madam, then yes, they do fall under my jurisdiction—regardless of their gender.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let us be clear about one thing, Doctor. The Columbia Mission Society has placed these women under my watchful care. I will decide when and if the women need medical attention. Not you.”

  “’Tis my fault entirely, Mrs. Robb,” Mercy interjected, her worried eyes darting between Joseph and Mrs. Robb. “I brought Sarah here this morn ’cause I thought she was in danger of dying. Please don’t blame the good doctor, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Robb gave Mercy a look that promised punishment. The young woman lowered her head, clearly knowing and accepting her place at the bottom of the social strata.

  Joseph pulled himself to his full height. Apparently, Mrs. Robb had no idea who he was. From the simplicity of her gown, he guessed she was far from wealthy. He had half a mind to demean her and put her
in her place.

  But doing so would make him no different from her, using one’s class to subjugate another. He had, after all, thrown off his title for the voyage, already having informed his fellow officers to call him doctor rather than lord.

  He decided to adopt a civil tone and approach. “Mrs. Robb, let me also be clear about one thing. As the ship’s surgeon, Captain Hellyer has put every passenger’s well-being under my watchful care. Please understand, neither you nor anyone else can dictate how and when I practice medicine while we’re aboard this ship.”

  The matron had the audacity to stare him in the eyes. He held her gaze until finally she shifted her attention to Mercy. “Gather Sarah and return to your cabin at once.”

  Mercy jumped to obey the order.

  Joseph wanted to stop her and insist that Sarah be left where she was for the time being, undisturbed. Yet he sensed that doing so would only make matters worse for both Mercy and Sarah. Instead, he gathered the tonic and ointment he’d used to ease Sarah’s discomfort.

  As Mercy passed by, bearing the weight of the drowsy girl, he pressed the items into her free hand. “Reserve the medicine for when Sarah is especially sick. And if she gets worse, be sure to bring her to me again.”

  Mrs. Robb spun sharply at the blatant disregard for her instructions.

  Mercy nodded briefly, not daring to look at him.

  After Mrs. Robb exited and closed the stateroom door, Joseph could only shake his head at the strangeness of his morning. Although part of him wanted to rush after Mrs. Robb and insist that she treat Mercy and Sarah with leniency, another part of him hesitated.

  In some ways, the matron was right. The bride-ship women weren’t his concern. He hadn’t taken on the ship’s surgeon position to champion the cause of these poor women. But even as he attempted to shove aside all thoughts of the would-be brides, he couldn’t dislodge the image of Mercy Wilkins’s compassionate face.

  She was clearly doing her part to make a difference.

  What was he doing?

  ten

  Oho! Those are some real fine ladies,” Ann remarked, peeking out their cabin door.

  Mercy scrubbed at the stains in Sarah’s shift, attempting to remove the spots along with the smell. After lying abed most of yesterday, the sweet girl was sitting up today. Mercy had helped her shed her clothes, wrapped her in a clean blanket, and now was trying as best she could to wash the garments in the floral washbasin.

  “Strike me blind!” Ann said. “Fancy clothes, fancy shoes, and fancy hats everywhere!”

  Kip sprawled out on her bed while Flo and Minnie scrambled behind Ann in the doorway to get their first glimpses of the ladies who were joining their group.

  While the other girls had been in and out of orphanages most of their lives, Sarah was the exception. She’d lived with her mum until only a year or two ago. From what Mercy had gleaned, Sarah’s mum had been loving, the kind of mum that made them all envious.

  Like Mercy, they’d all lived in London’s slums their whole existence, never going beyond their neighborhoods much less beyond the city. Everything about their journey so far had been new and exciting—including seeing the wealthy passengers.

  Mrs. Robb had instructed the women already aboard to remain in their cabins until all the newcomers settled in. Mrs. Robb didn’t want them getting in the way of the other bride-ship women, as well as the additional second- and third-class passengers who’d paid for passage.

  After the rain had confined them to their cabins yesterday, Mercy was as antsy as the others to stroll around the deck. Yet even when they’d been allowed out, Mrs. Robb had placed ropes at both ends of their row of cabins, leaving them only a small stretch of deck for their use.

  The matron had looked directly at Mercy when she instructed the women not to go beyond the ropes. Mercy wasn’t sure if the enclosure was punishment for taking Sarah to see the doctor yesterday, or if the chaperones would have confined them anyway. Whatever the case, she hadn’t argued or protested. None of them had. She supposed they were all too afraid Mrs. Robb might send them back to London and the slums if they didn’t obey.

  “To be sure,” Ann lamented, “them fancy ladies will grab up husbands quicker than we will.”

  “You’re too young to grab a husband,” Mercy said from her position on the edge of Sarah’s bed.

  The other girls giggled, and Ann just shrugged. “If a husband keeps me from a life of worry and hardship, then I don’t care a jot how old I be.”

  Sarah twirled a loose strand of Mercy’s hair around her finger. “You’re so pretty, I daresay the instant you step foot off the ship, you’ll have a dozen fellows all uncommon sweet on you.”

  Mercy smiled at the girl. “Stuff and nonsense. I didn’t come on this trip to find a husband. I’m not planning to get married.”

  “You’re not?” Sarah asked.

  “No. Not ever.”

  The girls in the doorway grew silent, and Sarah’s eyes rounded in her pale face.

  “But ain’t that why we’re going to the colony?” Ann asked. “’Cause the men there sent for us to come and be their brides?”

  Mercy let her hands fall idle in the washbasin. “We’re a-going to get jobs.”

  The girls all exchanged glances.

  “’Course we’ll get jobs,” Ann said. “But Miss Rye made it mighty clear that this is a bride ship, and we’ll be expected to get married at some point.”

  Flo nodded, her face wreathed in seriousness. “We’re going cause the fellows are asking for wives.”

  “That’s right. They don’t got enough women for all the men,” Minnie added.

  Mercy sat back and stared at the girls, the true nature and purpose of the voyage hitting her full in the face. How had she been so naïve as to miss the truth? She supposed since she’d joined the group late, Miss Rye and Mrs. Dotta had been too busy to outline all the expectations, but surely they could have mentioned the teeny-tiny fact that they meant for her to become a bride.

  Suddenly Mrs. Robb’s words after they’d boarded the ship made sense. “There are at least a thousand young men earnestly awaiting your arrival. The minute you step off the ship, you will each have a host of admirers making you offers of marriage.”

  No wonder Mrs. Robb was so zealously guarding the women from interacting with the men on the ship. The Columbia Mission Society was counting on the chaperones to deliver the brides to the men in the colonies. That explained why the Society had appointed a second chaperone, a Mr. Scott, who would serve as their reverend during the trip as well.

  With only sixty women compared to so many waiting men, the Society expected every woman to cooperate.

  Nausea began to rise in Mercy’s throat.

  “Mercy?” Sarah asked softly. “What’ll you do?”

  Mercy cupped a hand over her mouth and swallowed the bile. She couldn’t be sick. She had to stay clear-minded and figure out how to get herself out of the mess she was in.

  “You’re not gonna leave us, are you?” Sarah persisted, her eyes welling with tears.

  Mercy glanced past the girls out the door to the deck. Dartmouth was only a boat ride away. It wasn’t too late to jump ship. She could board one of the tenders delivering the other women, return to shore, and make her way back to London.

  But what would she find there?

  Of course, she’d get to be with Patience again. And yet she’d already come to accept that traveling to the colony was the best chance she had at saving her sister. If she didn’t go, if she didn’t prepare the way for Patience, what hope did either of them have?

  “Mercy?” Sarah whispered.

  “I’m just thinking, is all,” Mercy replied. If Miss Rye and Mrs. Dotta wanted to send brides to the colony, Mercy had no business being on the ship since she had no intention of becoming any man’s bride.

  “You might not have a hankering to get married now,” Ann said. “But you’ll be got over once you see all those available men.”

  The
idea of facing “a host of admirers making offers of marriage” turned Mercy’s stomach all the more sour. Despite that, she nodded and forced her lips into a smile. “Maybe you’re right.” She knew Ann was absolutely wrong, but the lie spilled out anyway.

  What other choice did she have but to go along with the plan? She’d have to pretend she felt just like everyone else. And once they arrived to Vancouver Island, she’d figure out a way to avoid getting coerced into a marriage she didn’t want.

  “Then you’ll stay?” Sarah’s expression was hopeful.

  “I can’t leave you now, can I?” She squeezed the girl’s hand, already feeling responsible for this ragtag group of orphans.

  “Good,” Sarah said with a smile. “Ann is right, you know. You’ll be ‘got over’ by some handsome fella soon enough.”

  Mercy didn’t respond except to squeeze the girl’s hand again.

  Joseph exited Captain Hellyer’s quarters and let the scent of salt and sea greet him like an old friend. He took a deep breath and basked in the early June sunshine. According to the captain, they would be boarding passengers for a couple more days before weighing anchor.

  “Lord Colville.” The diminutive Mr. Scott was walking briskly toward him, a retinue of women following behind, attempting to keep up. “You are just the person I am seeking.”

  Joseph considered retreating into the captain’s stateroom on the quarterdeck. He had no wish to engage in small talk with Mr. Scott—which always seemed to devolve into lengthy one-sided discourses—but he could see no way to politely avoid the encounter.

  “Mr. Scott,” he said in greeting.

  The man halted abruptly and bowed low, almost as if Joseph were a king. The women curtsied and held their bows too, watching Mr. Scott, clearly taking their cues from him.

  Finally Mr. Scott straightened, his back looking as stiff as the mainmast. “My lord, permit me to introduce my family. They came aboard the Tynemouth earlier today. The moment they stepped foot upon the ship, I informed them all of your presence, and they are as eager to meet you as I am to make the introductions.”