A Reluctant Bride

by Jody Hedlund

  The town of Port Stanley was a cluster of bright buildings, smaller than Dartmouth but an inviting place nonetheless. After six weeks at sea, Mercy supposed even a barren, deserted island would have been inviting. She longed to plant both feet on solid ground and walk for as long and as far as her legs would carry her.

  Even from a distance, she caught the earthy scent of peat, which Joseph said the people here used for fuel. It was a fine change from the sea air they’d been breathing for weeks.

  “There’s your Dr. Colville,” Ann said with an elbow to Mercy’s side.

  “Hush now, d’ye hear me,” Mercy scolded.

  The other girls followed Ann’s gaze down the deck to where Joseph was exiting his stateroom. He’d changed his attire and looked every bit the fine gentleman he was. With a tall black hat, blue coat, and white trousers, he had the appearance of someone important and prosperous.

  “Oh my eye . . .” Ann whistled under her breath. “That man’s sure a fine fella.”

  Mercy silently agreed but didn’t dare focus on him for too long. Already the girls half believed she’d become his mistress, though she’d been adamant that nothing had happened the night she found herself trapped with him in steerage. Since then she’d wanted to prove—especially to herself—that Joseph was a friend and nothing more.

  There were still times in the dark hours of the night when she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the strength of his arms around her, the solid length of his body shielding her, and the warmth of his whispers against her ear. She’d loved listening to him talk of his travels. He’d painted pictures in her mind about faraway places she’d never known existed.

  With the storm raging around them, his closeness and the conversation had helped her to endure the anxiety and fear pressing in on her. More than that, for a few hours she’d forgotten who they were. In the darkness, as the waves threatened to drown them, everything else fell away and they were ordinary people without any differences or problems weighing them down.

  She hadn’t wanted the time with him to end. She liked him . . . too much so, and she didn’t want to like him more and more every day. But she did regardless, and that frightened her.

  What if she reached a point where she couldn’t say no to him? What if she ended up living immorally like her mum? What if she gave way to the pressure and found fulfillment in the man who made her feel beautiful and wanted?

  That wouldn’t happen to her, Mercy reminded herself fiercely. She was stronger than Twiggy. And she’d make better choices, be smarter, and have greater self-control.

  Mercy stared out at the longboat that was now at the dock, unloading passengers. As much as she liked Joseph, she needn’t worry. He’d vowed he had no aspirations for her, that he was saving his affections for the woman he’d one day marry.

  She trusted him. After all, if he wanted to initiate more, he could have already done so in steerage when they’d spent the night together. Instead, he’d treated her with kind consideration.

  Besides, why would Joseph want a woman like her when he could choose anyone he wanted? He wasn’t even interested in the wealthy middle-class women, not even pretty Miss Lawrence, one of his most frequent patients. Miss Lawrence’s comment about him had stayed with Mercy. “Joseph Colville will have his eyes set much higher—on a woman of noble birth, someone with both title and wealth.”

  Laughter from one of Mr. Scott’s daughters wafted down the deck. Mercy glanced in time to see both of the young ladies smiling up at Joseph, likely admiring something witty he’d said.

  Charlotte and Lavinia were the quiet sort and hadn’t mingled with the Columbia Mission Society women, not even with the fancy ladies. Even so, Mercy had seen the daughters on the deck and at the church services Mr. Scott led. They were charming enough, the type of women Joseph could admire. The way Mr. Scott was always jabbering on about his daughters, Mercy suspected that was exactly what Mr. Scott had been aiming for—that Joseph would take an interest in one of them.

  “Lord Colville, we’d be most honored and grateful to have you accompany us during our outing today,” Mr. Scott said. “My daughters and wife are the most delightful shoppers and will be able to guide us quite skillfully.”

  At that moment, Joseph shifted so that he was looking directly at Mercy. His brow quirked as if he hadn’t expected to connect with her and was perhaps doing his best to keep their friendship as secretive as she was.

  She quickly turned her attention to the longboat. The sailors had begun rowing it back toward the Tynemouth.

  “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Scott,” Joseph replied, “but I regret I must decline. I’m predisposed to do more sightseeing than shopping.”

  Mr. Scott turned unusually silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Mercy saw that the reverend was studying her with furrowed brows.

  “I hate to disappoint you, Lord Colville.” Mr. Scott lifted his chin from side to side so as to stretch his neck, something he was wont to do on occasion. “If you are considering sightseeing with one or more of our brides, I must inform you that they will not be going ashore here in the Falklands.”

  Around Mercy, the women released cries of protest and dismay. Inwardly she objected just as furiously but managed to bite back her words at the realization that Mr. Scott was still watching her.

  Was he preventing their going to shore because he assumed Joseph planned to spend the day sightseeing with her?

  If so, he couldn’t be more wrong. Joseph wouldn’t associate with her publicly.

  “Not going ashore, Mr. Scott?” Joseph was saying. “Why, is something amiss?”

  “Mrs. Robb and I spoke at great length regarding the well-being of our charges,” Mr. Scott responded above the growing clamor of the women. “And we have come to the conclusion they will be served best by remaining on the ship, away from the pernicious aspirations of any man who might try to lead them astray.”

  “That is rather severe, is it not?” Joseph pressed.

  “I think not, Lord Colville. Some of the women have already proven to be wayward, and we cannot allow them to have any occasion for giving in to their baser instincts.”

  Mr. Scott’s eyes darted to Mercy again. Did he believe she was to blame for Joseph’s indifference toward his daughters? Did he think that by keeping her on board the ship, he’d further entice Joseph to accept his invitation for the outing with his family?

  The thought made Mercy feel sick. Maybe he and Mrs. Robb had already made the decision long before this incident with Joseph. Nevertheless, Mr. Scott’s message was clear. He didn’t want her interfering with his daughters gaining Lord Colville’s good favor and affection.

  She wanted to shout that she had no intention of sightseeing with Joseph today, that she’d beg Joseph to spend the day with Charlotte and Lavinia so long as Mr. Scott allowed the rest of the women to go to shore. She’d even volunteer to stay behind on the ship if she had to. She couldn’t bear the thought that everyone had to suffer and remain on the ship on account of her.

  The women’s protests grew louder still, so much so that Mr. Scott and Mrs. Robb ordered them back to their cabins. As the door closed behind her and the cold darkness of the tiny room encased her, Mercy stood there frozen in place.

  Muffled sobs echoed in the room as the girls threw themselves onto their beds and cried out their misery. But Mercy felt only dread. If she wasn’t more careful, she had a feeling Mr. Scott would find a way to ruin her completely, ruin her chance of getting a job on Vancouver Island, and maybe even ruin the opportunity for Patience to come on the next ship.

  She couldn’t spend any more time with Joseph. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t be near him—not even in the smallest way. If she could prove to Mr. Scott that he had nothing to fear regarding her stealing Joseph’s attention away from his two daughters, maybe then he’d forget all about her.

  Being an invisible, poor nobody was for the best, she decided. She would be wise never to forget that.
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br />   eighteen

  Joseph waited at the rope, leaning against the ship’s rail with what he hoped was a casual posture, one that didn’t reflect his inner turmoil and angst.

  Mercy wasn’t coming.

  He glanced again in the direction of her cabin. But the door remained as resolutely closed this morning as it had yesterday.

  The sun was rising, sending its brilliant rays across the now-calm bay, turning the water into dazzling blue sapphires and the distant hills into vibrant emeralds. It was a sight he would have enjoyed sharing with Mercy, just as he had many times before during their early-morning encounters.

  He didn’t want to admit their meetings had become the highlight of his day, yet he couldn’t deny the fact any longer. He looked forward to being alone with her at daybreak, when he could watch as her beautiful features filled with wonder and her eyes widened with delight, when he could share all he’d been learning with someone as eager to learn, when he could simply be himself without any pressure to perform as someone who was titled.

  True, they’d had but a few minutes together most days, and it had never been quite enough time. But he didn’t want those moments to come to an end.

  And now clearly they had.

  The oranges he’d brought back from shore weighed heavily in his coat pockets. He’d planned to give them to her this morning, had wanted to see her face when she took her first bite, guessing she’d probably never had a fresh orange before.

  He ought to be on his way. He had a busy day ahead helping Captain Hellyer transport the mutineers ashore to the British government courthouse, where they would be put on trial for their insubordination.

  The captain of the Royal Navy warship that was part of the Pacific Squadron and anchored in the bay had boarded the Tynemouth yesterday and addressed the prisoners, reminding them that since they were sailors in the merchant marine, they were allowed to live. If they’d been serving in the Royal Navy, they would have been hung or shot dead for their crimes. The naval captain’s words seemed to have sobered the prisoners.

  Rather than face execution, the mutineers would be held in the British garrison prison onshore and given a sentence of imprisonment including hard labor. Captain Hellyer had confided in Joseph that he planned to ask for leniency for the mutineers. He considered their confinement in the brig sufficient punishment for their misdeeds, and he would take them on board again if they promised to carry out their work for the remainder of the voyage without giving any more trouble.

  The fact was, sailors were hard to come by, and Captain Hellyer needed skilled crew members for the rest of the trip. His mercy toward the mutineers would likely earn him their loyalty.

  Joseph had continued to take his turn in the ship’s engine room during the past couple of weeks as they charted a course southward, particularly on the fair-weather days when they’d needed the coal engines to power the ship. However, he’d gladly hand the task back over to the sailors for the duration of his time aboard the Tynemouth.

  While the ship still had many months of voyage before returning to England, only a month remained until they reached Vancouver Island. A month . . .

  He pressed a hand against his pocket and the oranges. One month until Mercy disembarked. One month until he said farewell and never saw her again.

  With a quick glance to ensure no other passengers were yet on deck, he ducked under the rope and strode toward her cabin door. Even if he was spotted, no one would question his presence or find fault with his delivering the oranges. After all, the fruit was most beneficial to the women’s health.

  He knocked firmly, then stood back and waited, straightening his cravat and his hat.

  A moment later, the door opened a crack, and Mercy peeked through. At the sight of him, she shoved the door closed again.

  He jammed his boot into the gap before she could shut him out. “Mercy, have a care. I beg you, just a word.”

  “We cannot be talking, sir.” She rose to her toes and peered beyond him. “Cannot at all.”

  “Please—”

  “’Tisn’t prudent, sir.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Who was she looking for? She was clearly afraid someone was watching her. He lowered his voice. “Pray, did someone discover our meeting together?”

  She shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Then why? Why won’t you see me? Did I offend you?”

  “It’s not on that score, I assure you.” In the shadows of the doorway, her features were pale and tight with anxiety.

  “What happened, Mercy?”

  “Nothing to speak of. But it’s what may happen by and by.”

  Something had definitely occurred to frighten her from meeting with him anymore. Whatever it was, surely she knew she had nothing to fear from him. He pulled the oranges from his pockets. “These are for you and the others.” He nodded behind her to the young women watching him with open curiosity.

  “I can’t—” The excited whispers from behind halted her refusal.

  He thrust the oranges into her hands, giving her no choice but to take them. “I shall bring you and the girls more. Tell me what you want and I shall be your humble servant.”

  Mercy paused and looked at the others as they bombarded her with their instructions. Finally, shaking her head, she faced him. “We’ve got no way to repay you, sir.”

  “I’m not asking for payment, Mercy.” His voice dipped even lower so that only she could hear it. “I only wish to see you happy.”

  She ducked her head but not before he caught sight of the pleasure his words brought her. “You’ve been kind enough. No more is needed.”

  “You cut me to the quick and shall make a wretched man out of me if you don’t allow me to bring you something more.” He’d adamantly opposed Mr. Scott and Mrs. Robb’s decision to keep the brides aboard the ship. He’d even gone to Captain Hellyer with his protests.

  The captain had warned Joseph not to get involved and revealed that Mr. Scott and Mrs. Robb were under a great deal of pressure from the Columbia Mission Society to make sure all the women arrived to Vancouver Island. Apparently, the Seaman’s Bride, another bride ship from Australia, had shown up in the Vancouver Island capital city of Victoria without any brides, because the eligible women had all jumped ship in San Francisco and made off with Yankees.

  As much as Joseph wanted to sneak Mercy off the ship and let her explore Port Stanley in spite of her chaperones’ protectiveness, he knew there was very little chance of such a move going undetected and subsequently causing upheaval.

  For now, it seemed the only way to help her was by sneaking some of the island to her.

  At the sound of a nearby door unlatching, Mercy’s eyes widened, and she backed hastily away. “I’m much obliged, sir.” She pushed the door again to close it. And this time he didn’t have the heart to force her to keep it open. He stepped back and allowed it to shut completely.

  “Lord Colville?” Mr. Scott called from the second-class cabins down the deck. “May I be of aid to your lordship?”

  “No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Scott.” Joseph had no wish for a confrontation with the reverend so early in the morning. He strode back toward the rope, hoping to get away before the man could consume his time and attention. Although Mr. Scott was a decent fellow, there were times, like now, when Joseph would rather be horsewhipped than forced to carry on small talk with him.

  “Have you need of an assistant at this early hour?” Mr. Scott persisted, apparently realizing whose cabin Joseph had been visiting. His short, choppy steps resounded on the deck behind Joseph. “As always, I offer you one of my daughters. They are most eager to learn nursing skills and would be heartily pleased to spend time under your esteemed tutelage.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott.” Joseph slipped under the rope. “But I have no need for an assistant this morn. Good day.” He tipped his hat and proceeded forward.

  If by some chance he needed help, the first person he wanted was Mercy. In fact, s
he was the only one he wanted.

  Sitting on the deck, leaning against the cabin wall, Mercy sniffed her fingers. The sweetness of the orange still lingered on her hands even hours after she’d eaten it. She needed to thank Joseph for the treat, but as hard as it was, she couldn’t give in to the desire to meet with him. No, she couldn’t risk being seen with him again.

  “I ain’t never had duck,” Ann said as she plucked the feathers of one of the wildfowl the men had shot while hiking around Port Stanley. They’d brought so many of the game birds back to the ship that they were more than willing to share the bounty with everyone. Not for the first time did Mercy wish she could give some to Patience and the rest of her family at home.

  “I haven’t either,” Mercy replied. She captured a handful of the soft feathers and stuffed them into one of the mattresses she’d dragged from their cabin. She’d emptied some of the straw that had become flat and rotten from the days of sweating and seasickness, hoping to freshen their beds with the feathers.

  The other girls from the cabin, including Sarah, were sprawled out nearby, playing a game with cards the ship’s boy had smuggled them. Since Mrs. Robb had left earlier in the longboat to Port Stanley, they could mostly do as they pleased, so long as they stayed within their confined area of the deck.

  Some of the other poor women were plucking and cleaning birds too, as happy as Mercy to have something to do to pass the time while they were forced to remain on the ship.

  “After the roasting, what about soup?” Ann blew at a feather that drifted near her face.

  “Duck soup sounds right good.” Mercy scooped more feathers into the mattress.

  “Can’t remember the last time I had soup.” After the weeks at sea, the girl’s face was grimy, her black hair stringy and hanging in limp braids. All the more reason the women should’ve been allowed to go ashore, so that they could have washed up with something besides salty seawater.