Bride of a Distant Isle

by Sandra Byrd

  “Tell her that it’s a glorious summer day, and one Albert should enjoy. Would she like to come along for a carriage ride to Lymington, with Lillian, of course, so the lad can enjoy watching the yachts departing and take in the fresh air?”

  Maud returned with the message I’d expected. “Mrs. Everedge says she is not well enough for a trip into town, but that is no reason to deprive Albert. You and Lillian may take him.”

  “Thank you, Maud. I can attend to my dressing today so you may assist Clementine.”

  She nodded and then left. I pushed Mr. Morgan’s necklace to the bottom of my jewel box, using a stick, as one would to force away an insect. Then I put what I believed to be my mother’s fish necklace on instead, though keeping it placed under my gown. I made my way to Albert’s rooms to speak with Lillian.

  “Mrs. Everedge has indicated that you and I might take this young lad to watch the yachts this morning . . . that is, if he’d like to.”

  Albert ran headlong into my arms and, as I bent toward him, took my face in his hands, kissing each cheek. I laughed aloud and kissed each cheek in return.

  “Well, then, let’s be off.” Lillian seemed happy to be getting out, too.

  “I wonder if . . . that white cotton dress I’ve seen you in, the one with the pink roses scattered on it,” I said. “Perhaps I might remain with Albert whilst you change, if you wish to?”

  She tilted her head; it was her best dress and set off her fair complexion. She did not question me, however. Instead, she went to change and was back shortly. She’d affixed little crystal earrings into her earlobes, too.

  Please, dear Lord, do not let Clementine see us dressed like this or she will certainly understand something is afoot.

  We set off toward the door; Watts had ordered the carriage to be at the front entrance. While we waited, Albert and I made our way to the lawn, where I showed him how to blow the seedy white down from spent dandelions; he puffed up his cheeks and then exhaled with glee, and I plucked some strays from his neatly combed hair. After settling into the carriage, young Albert on my lap, we made off, rattling down the drive. His face was pressed to the window; a cool breeze found its way to us from the open front, as did the driver’s jaunty tune. It was not noon, and yet the August day was so hot that even the dust lay listlessly on the ground beside us as the carriage wheels churned. I pulled my bonnet strings to loosen them, as did Lillian.

  Shortly, we arrived in Lymington. First, we had the driver pull up to the harbor wall so Albert could view the yachts; I let him climb down from the carriage, and we stood nearby it as he watched them slip in and out of port. I hastily scanned those that were anchored; no ship had Poseidon scrolled upon it. Captain Dell’Acqua had already sailed to London, apparently, or wherever he’d gone to conduct his affairs.

  After half an hour, I tucked Albert back into the carriage, and we clop-clopped our way to Mr. Galpine’s lending library. There were plenty of books in our own library, but books were not the reason for our journey. I took Albert by the hand but insisted that Lillian should accompany us inside.

  The tinkling bells on the door chimed our arrival, and Mr. Galpine raised his hat in acknowledgment of me, but his eyes were on Lillian.

  “I’ve come to check on my newspaper advertisement,” I said. Lillian looked at me, shocked, and I grinned at her. Taking charge of one’s own life had been her idea, after all. “I’ve been faithfully reviewing Mr. Everedge’s papers but I’ve yet to spot my enquiry for a governess situation. Is there a possibility it was not sent?”

  Galpine shook his head. “No. I posted it myself, Miss Ashton. Along with the advertisement for the gentleman keen to engage a secretary, and he’s had several responses. I assume if one correspondence arrived at the paper safely, the other did as well.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I had seen that very advertisement in the paper, the one the man ahead of me had placed.

  I twisted my cameo ring. “What could have gone wrong?”

  Mr. Galpine shook his head. “I’m sure I don’t know. I’m sorry, Miss Ashton. Would you like to place another ad?”

  I had to conserve my resources. Before I placed another ad, I should find out what had happened to the first one. “Not just yet, thank you. But I would like to peruse your lending books, as would our nanny, Miss Lillian Miller.” I introduced them and then added, “Miss Miller is a fine nanny but has mentioned a talent with sums and an earnest interest in shop-keeping. I thought perhaps you might have some periodicals or books that could assist her as she considers this new avenue.”

  He readily abandoned me to display potential reading materials to Lillian. I smiled at them, and after locating a few books of interest, Lillian and I left. I would review Edward’s newspapers again.

  When we returned home, Clementine was in the drawing room, reading. Albert ran to her and told her about the ships, and she fussed over him. As they talked, I paged through Edward’s papers, left untouched as he was in London.

  “What are you looking for?” Clementine asked as I quickly paged through.

  “Nothing of importance,” I replied, wrongly, and noted that I would need to admit that at my next confession. The business at hand was most important indeed.

  Edward returned from London on August 8; I remembered the date on that day’s paper, which he found me searching through in the library. He was in high spirits.

  “Your matters are proceeding well?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It may yet be that the Maltese, who have rained trouble upon the houses of Ashton and Everedge, shall save us in the end!”

  I did not point out that the Maltese man who was my father had, unknowingly, gifted the family fortunes to Edward’s mother and father through my illegitimacy. It would not help matters at this point, and I needed to think how I could seek to prove my claim if it were true.

  “Your friendship with Captain Dell’Acqua, and, indeed, with Lady Somerford and Lady Leahy, has proved fortuitous indeed.” He sat down in a chair near me. “Put the newspapers down, Annabel, and take a seat near me.”

  Dread forced my heart into spitting out extra beats, and I closed the paper, wiping my hands on a handkerchief so I did not stain my gown with ink, and sat near him.

  “You’re searching for the advertisement you placed seeking a governess situation.” He was blunt, and his face held no concern for me. I, on the other hand, was flooded with unease.

  “Yes . . . how did you know?”

  “Clementine told me you were looking through the paper, as did Watts. An enquiry arrived for you a week or two ago.”

  “Addressed to me? Enquiring as to my availability for the position?”

  Edward rang for a cup of tea, nodded to the maid serving it, and then finally turned to answer me, at his leisure.

  “The letter was addressed to me,” he said. “How dare you accuse me of opening your mail! The writer sought reassurance about your availability, suitability, and references. I returned with a letter of my own saying that you were most unsuitable.”

  “Most unsuitable!” I stood, not caring now who heard me. “I am entirely suitable. I am of good education, an experienced teacher, and the Rogers school would give me excellent references—of that I am certain.”

  “I know the family in question,” Edward said, quietly setting down his half-drained cup of tea. “They would not want a papist governess surreptitiously steering their children in a misguided direction. Governesses are charged with the moral welfare of the children, and in that, you are most unsuitable on several fronts. I responded to their enquiry in this way and have not heard another word. Upon learning that you had placed such an advertisement, without consultation with me, I spoke with the newspaper in question and had it removed.”

  “Then I shall place another, this time specifying that I seek a situation in a Catholic household!” I sat down and held his gaze.

  He was not to be challenged.

  He drew near to me, his eyes the cold gray of the stones that coul
d be found sweating inside the dark, abandoned abbey behind Highcliffe. “I warned the man that should any further advertisements be submitted, he should alert me. There will be no more, Catholic family or not.”

  I sat back, and as I did, I felt my mother’s necklace move, quietly, under my gown. I drew quiet strength from it.

  “Then another solution shall be found.”

  He nodded. “I’ve already found it. You’re to be married.”

  My anxiety tempered, slowly, drifting from the fast beating in my chest to the slow sickness settling in the hollow of my stomach. “I have no dowry.”

  His eyes widened, and he sipped his nearly empty cup, to regain the high ground, I suspected. Ah. You didn’t know that I knew that, did you?

  “You won’t require one,” he said. “I’ve found a man who is willing, eager, even, to marry you anyway. I’ve told him that foreign blood is only good for horse breeding.” He smiled a little self-satisfied smile to himself. “He’s smitten with you, Annabel, and only God knows why.”

  I sat back down in my chair. I could hear servants rustling about in the vestibule. I could not blame their eavesdropping. But I did not have time to worry about it at that moment, either.

  “Mr. Morgan.”

  He nodded. “Just so. I had thought to have this business with the Maltese wrapped up by summer’s end, but alas. However, when our affairs are concluded, in no more than a few weeks’ time, Morgan and I will come to a formal agreement. But, as you’ve said, you have an education and given the circumstances regarding your birth, are not unwise to the ways of the world, so I assumed you would have guessed something was afoot. It’s all but settled.”

  I steadied my voice. “And if I refuse?”

  “What shall you do then? You cannot return to the Rogers school with no stipend. There is, as you have somehow discovered”—he looked at me angrily—“no dowry.” He motioned for Watts. “Bring me a Scotch whiskey.” He’d moved from tea to whiskey, so perhaps everything was not as neatly settled as he hoped to convey.

  “Then why not allow me to become a governess?” I asked. “It will cost you nothing.”

  “I’ve already made arrangements; they’re good for you, they’re good for the family.” He grimaced as he swallowed half his glassful. “Your marriage to him will satisfy certain obligations as well as please him . . . and me. You’ll be well taken care of,” he said, reassuringly, slipping back into his faux fatherly voice. “I’ve ensured that. You must trust me.”

  “Must I?” I let a full minute tick by. The commotion in the vestibule had quieted, but, I suspected, the servants remained, listening like tentative mice waiting to see which way the cat would move next. He smiled menacingly with his prematurely yellowed teeth, which looked like tea-stained porcelain but had, in fact, been tarnished by smoke.

  I found myself in a stony place. “And if I refuse?”

  “Then it’s the workhouse for you.”

  I recoiled. The workhouse would scrub away the last vestige of my gentility.

  “If there was someone else who would have me . . . a good man?” For the first time, I spoke the thought that was only half formed, half desired, in my own heart and mind.

  “Dell’Acqua?” He laughed. “Oh, Annabel. You are not so wise in the ways of the world after all. To quote an Italian, which the captain is so fond of doing, ‘There is nothing more important than appearing to be religious.’ If I may add to Machiavelli’s sentiments, ‘or more important than appearing to be besotted, if one wishes one’s way with a woman, or well-intentioned and well-connected, if one purposes to make investment arrangements with her family.’

  “And now, dear cousin, I must be about my affairs,” Edward continued. “Fear not—Morgan will treat you well or hear from me, and we need say nothing more of this till matters are concluded. But”—he raised a firm finger to me—“no more advertisements in the paper. Promise.”

  I nodded. “I promise not to place any more advertisements.”

  “You’re good to your word, I know.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I stepped up the stairs to my room, past the silent servants, who scattered like the blown dandelion fluff when I walked past them. I wanted nothing so much as to fall upon my bed and cry. Mr. Morgan! So it had been settled? I saw no way out of this. I had to find another position, and with only a few weeks in which to do so!

  However, my tears should have to wait. Surprisingly, the door to my room was open, and Clementine waited for me within. My surprise must have shown on my face.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

  “Are you well?” She had never, to my knowledge, been to my rooms. But perhaps she had visited when I was not there.

  “I am,” she said. She sat on the little sofa near the fireplace, which was, of course, cold, and indicated I should sit near her. I moved my book of saints and angels as well as my Bible, which had been placed right where I needed to sit, and joined her.

  “Those books . . .” she began, looking at my beloved religious volumes.

  “Yes?”

  She did not continue with her earlier thoughts but moved on to why she’d come. “I did need to tell Edward about the advertisement,” she said, “that you were looking through the papers for it. If I didn’t tell him, and one of the staff overheard and mentioned . . . Well, you understand.”

  “Not quite.”

  “I know Edward has not always been kind to you throughout your life. And it would not go well for me, or for you, if I chaperone you but things go amiss. But that is not the purpose of my visit.” She looked down at her hands. “You had mentioned that you were considering taking vows to become a nun.”

  I blinked. “I did?”

  She put her hand over mine, “Yes, Annabel, you did. Do you not remember?”

  I did not remember. Had I told her? How else could she have known? Certainly Father Gregory would not have shared our personal conversations. Nor would Elizabeth, Lady Leahy. Would she have?

  “You do not care to marry Mr. Morgan,” Clementine stated.

  I shook my head. “Would you?”

  “That is not the question, Annabel. We women are not, generally, at liberty to marry whom we wish. These things are arranged by our fathers—or our betters—in our best interests.” Her voice softened, and she put her hand on my arm. I looked into her eyes, and they reflected genuine concern.

  “You have a choice that I did not have, however.” She lowered her voice. “You could take those vows, become a nun. Is that your intention, Annabel? I’ll keep your answer confidential.”

  I did not answer her, though I could feel her silent insistence pressing me to respond. The vows were holy, but that was something she would not understand. Was I called? The heady scent of Dell’Acqua’s cologne somehow presented itself in my memory.

  “It is an option.” She was no longer willing to abide the silence. “I’m here to tell you, as your friend, and as Edward’s wife who hears him speak and knows his thoughts. Other than Mr. Morgan . . . it is your only option.” She drew near the door. “I can see you are distressed, so Edward has excused you from joining us at dinner this evening. I’ll have a tray sent to your room. Good evening, dearest Annabel.” She left, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Edward would not have had time to speak with her between my conversation with him and the one I’d just had with her. He must have predetermined my dismissal from dinner.

  The room grew stifling. I could not open my window—it was one of those that had been sealed shut; why? Because many of the windows were old and needed expensive repair? Or had it been sealed as long ago as when my mother had occupied these very rooms . . . to protect her or to restrain her?

  I put on a light cotton gown and cooled off as the day grew darker by degree. A carriage drove up; I watched as Dell’Acqua and his friends arrived for dinner. A tray of plain food was delivered to me, silently. I lifted the tray top. Macaroni with mashed calves’-head.

  Some hours lat
er, in dark punctuated only by seaside starlight, quiet disturbed only by the faint sound, through glass, of a relentless, high-tide sea, the Maltese sailors left, laughing as they departed.

  For all purposes, for this evening, Edward had me quarantined.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Later that night, when all were abed, Mrs. Watts herself came to collect my tray. She peered at me with that look, and I tried to reassure her through my natural mannerisms and unaffected speech that I was quite well—physically and emotionally. Maud was, no doubt, tending to Clementine after the evening’s entertainment.

  Mrs. Watts left, and I counted the hours in my bed with an eye on the Chinese dragon clock, which ticked by the minutes with a clicking that sounded like nails tapping on my windowpane. Ten o’clock; the guests had departed. Eleven; staff were quiet. When midnight rolled over, Albert would be settled, certainly, and therefore Lillian would not need to be about. I’d leave for my search then.

  In spite of my best efforts, I nodded into sleep and passed my midnight deadline. I woke sharply at four a.m. I slipped out of bed. I had to search for something, anything, that could help me prove my legitimacy before the household woke and saw me prowling where no others, obviously, went. I did not want to call attention to myself and have the room searched before I might find anything that remained.

  I quietly picked my way up the back steps to the quarantine room. When I had last tried to enter, I felt that the door handle would, indeed, have twisted had Lillian not stumbled upon me at precisely the wrong moment. I needed to try again.

  I did not light my candle but made my way in the dark, which cloaked me. Once I reached the top of the long, narrow staircase, I wiped the sweat from my palm off on my gown and reached for the knob. It was loose and did not seem to catch, but after quiet persistence I felt the knob turn and, with a little push, the door opened. I slipped into the room as quietly as I could, then pulled the door shut behind me.