Marianne brushed away the tears and perspiration covering her cheeks and forehead. She must go to him now and tell him that at last she understood, at last she believed his cause was just. She entertained no delusions his revolution would succeed, for His Majesty’s armies would easily defeat the colonists. But win or lose, rise or fall, she would stay by his side—if he would have her.
She folded the newspaper with care and held it close, like a precious treasure. Sliding the bolt and opening the door, she pulled a blast of heat into the cabin, along with the dreadful but familiar smells of bilge water and rancid air. A handkerchief held to her nose and mouth, she hurried along the companionway to the ladder, eager to breathe the fresh sea air. Eager to see Jamie and declare her understanding of his motives.
As she climbed the steps, angry shouts met her ears. Once on deck, she saw a frigate bobbing alongside not twenty yards away. In the center of the Fair Winds’ main deck stood a uniformed officer and a group of armed British sailors. Two of the men aimed their muskets directly at Jamie’s chest.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor. So be it, Lord. Jamie stared back at the British captain, whose sneer had almost earned him a fist planted on his equine nose.
“I have need of all my men, sir.” Jamie scrambled for calm—not an easy task with two muskets pointed at his chest—and sent up another prayer that this man would listen to reason. “We are bound for Loyalist East Florida, and the unruly seas around the Carolina shoals require every sailor.”
“I care nothing for your problems, Captain. We are at war, and my needs exceed any that a merchant vessel might have, even a Loyalist merchant vessel.” His tone shouted his suspicions. “We will search every corner of this vessel and—”
“Really, Captain, this is entirely too much.”
Lady Marianne’s unmistakable voice almost felled Jamie. Now everything truly was lost. Would his crew remember what to do? Would they be the brave lads he expected them to be? One thing he knew. If God granted him life, he would do all in his power to save Lady Marianne during the coming melee.
She marched toward them in her inimitable way, and he saw the incriminating newspaper clutched in one hand. The sailors who aimed their muskets at him eyed her. At this diversion, he should try to seize their guns. But one man remembered his duty and looked back at Jamie.
“Here now, don’t you move.” The youth pasted on a fierce look, enough to show he meant business.
“And who might you be, miss?” The captain stared at Lady Marianne, running his eyes up and down, and Jamie vowed to make him pay for the disrespect he showed her.
“I am Lady Marianne Moberly.” She lifted her chin and glared at him. “This ship sails under the British flag and my father’s banner, and I am more than sick of you nautical ninnies who continually delay my arrival in St. Augustine.”
Jamie thought he might fall over from relief, but quickly pulled in a bracing breath.
The captain narrowed his eyes. “How do I know—”
“How dare you?” Marianne’s lovely cheeks grew bright pink, and her eyes blazed. “I will report you. What is your name, Captain? Do you have any idea who my father is? Lord Bennington, a member of His Majesty’s Privy Council, that’s who. I will not suffer one man to be removed from this ship.” She moved close to the British officer, putting her face near his and jutting out her jaw. Jamie had been on the receiving end of that scowl and had felt it sharply, but would the captain be equally intimidated? Whether yea or nay, Jamie cheered her courage. Once again his ladylove showed her mettle, although he could not guess why.
“I…well, madam…” The captain looked at his men, at Jamie—who gave him a lopsided grin—and finally at the paper clutched to Lady Marianne’s chest. “May I ask, madam, what you are reading?” A sly smile touched his lips.
She looked down as if she’d never seen the paper before. “This?” Her blue eyes blinked, and Jamie could see her mind spin. “Why, an American newspaper, of course. I am taking it to my brother in East Florida. He is Mr. Frederick Moberly, son of Lord Bennington, and His Majesty’s magistrate.”
That’s my girl. The bold truth. That should confound him. Jamie winked away a fond look. He had no idea why she was helping him yet again, but prayed she would not back down.
“I see,” said the captain. “And why not a London newspaper?”
“How dare you question me, you officious idiot.” Now real rage covered her face. “My father will hear of this. The Admiralty will hear of your insults to a British lady.”
The man stepped back, palms out as if to ward off her attack. “Madam, please. Have you no idea that we are at war?”
She followed him, and he nearly tripped in his retreat. “If you would like to continue fighting in this war and not spend it on a prison hulk, I suggest you be on your way.” Placing one fist at her waist, she shook the newspaper toward Jamie. “Captain Templeton, why did you not show this man my father’s letter?”
Suddenly pale around the edges of his tanned skin, the captain also looked at Jamie. “You have a letter from Lord Bennington? Why did you not say so?”
Jamie could not get the Fair Winds away from the frigate fast enough. He grabbed the sheets himself, along with his crew, to hoist sails. He’d heard a man could die of apoplexy and thought he might have come close to it within the past two hours since the other ship had accosted them.
Lady Marianne stood at the bow, her long raven curls blowing loose in the brisk breeze. Once the ship had caught the wind and he’d set their southerly heading, Jamie approached her, but with caution. Just because she had confronted the British captain to prevent an impressment, Jamie could not assume she had changed her loyalties.
“My lady.” He leaned one elbow against the gunwale at a respectful distance from her, trying to appear indifferent, yet guarding his heart against another rebuff.
The shy smile she gave him shattered his defenses. “Have you finished all your captain duties?”
He puckered away a foolish grin. “W-well, um, there are always duties for the captain….” He waved one hand aimlessly toward the deck, the mast, the sails.
“I meant do you have time for a chat?” She glanced at the newspaper she clutched against her.
“Oh. You wish to talk with me?” Now, after all these countless weeks of snubbing him?
She looked upward and shook her head. “Yes, Jamie, I wish to talk with you.” Her voice sounded like a soothing song. Her azure eyes caught the sky and sparkled like sapphires.
A flood of love and joy surged through him, and he turned away to gather his emotions, gripping the gunwale and bowing his head. For the first time in well over a year, hope for a future with Marianne exploded in his chest.
She touched his arm, and he jumped. And she jumped. And they both laughed.
She glanced away briefly, then settled her gaze on him. “I do not know what the future holds, Jamie. I do not even know if you will have me. But I love you with all my heart, and I want to spend the rest of my life, whether it be long or short, with you.”
Her sweet, shy smile infused him with strength. He touched her cheek, and she pressed it into his palm. He slid his other arm around her and pulled her close, bending to brush a tender kiss across her lips. “Marianne.”
In response, she melted against him. Somewhere in the distance, he heard men cheering, though he could not imagine why. For his happiness sang like music on the ocean winds, a symphony to his soul.
“I can understand why you wish to renounce your English loyalties.” Marianne sat across the desk from Jamie as they ate their supper. “It is not just the matters discussed so convincingly in the Declaration. When I think of all the times we had to pretend when we were in Papa’s presence, it makes me very sad. He claimed to want me happy, but would have denied me my only true source of joy simply because of an accident of birth. Yet for my countrymen…and my father, there can be no other way to structure society.”
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Jamie reached out to squeeze her hand. “You cannot know how close I came to asking for your hand after…” He shrugged and took a bite of meat.
“After you saved Georgie.” Marianne adored his modesty. “I was so angry you did not.”
“Will you forgive me…for everything?” His dark eyes shone with love.
Marianne gave him a smug smile. “I am endeavoring to do so.” She looked beyond him to Molly, who stood ready to serve their next course. “You know, Molly, we could all eat together, you and Mr. Saunders, the captain and I.”
“You’re very kind, Lady Marianne. Perhaps next time.”
“We shall do that.” Marianne sipped her coffee, a tasty brew. “But, dear, you must not call me Lady Marianne any longer. Soon I shall be Mrs. Templeton, and just plain Marianne to my friends.”
Molly’s eyes twinkled. “Aye, my lady, but being English, ’twill be a hard habit for me to break.”
“But you are American now, are you not?”
“Aye, my lady.” Molly chuckled, then tilted her head toward Jamie and wiggled an eyebrow, as if to say Marianne should be talking with him.
Marianne did as the older woman suggested. She gave Jamie a quivering smile. “I suppose I shall be an American, too.”
He gazed at her, concern creasing his forehead. “Will it be that difficult?”
She set down her fork and smoothed her napkin in her lap. “A lifetime of loving one’s country cannot be undone in a few days…or by reading a single document, no matter how well reasoned and written. Please understand that I cannot truly renounce my homeland, at least not yet. The war will not last forever, and then…” She could not speak of her doubts about the Revolution’s success.
“You think we’ll fail.”
Tears sprung to her eyes. “I fear it.”
He again reached out to her, and the warm touch of his hand on hers sent a pleasant chill up her arm. “Well, then, if it does…” His voice held a startling merriment. “We’ll just have to sail to Mexico or California or China to escape the Crown’s retribution.”
Molly’s eyes widened, and Marianne gaped. They both laughed.
“You have thought this through, have you?” Marianne gazed at the man she loved beyond reason.
“I’ve counted the cost as best I could, but I’ll leave the future to the Almighty. And my deepest instinct says that He’ll bless our newborn country. Our…my duty is to do my part to ensure it.” He gently squeezed her fingers.
Marianne returned an affirming grip on his hand. “And my duty is to stand by you. Wherever you may go, I ask only that you let me go with you.”
His eyes twinkling, Jamie glanced over his shoulder. “Molly, would you give us one minute?”
Molly beamed. “Just one minute, Captain.” She curtsied and left the cabin, closing the door behind her.
Jamie tugged Marianne up from her chair and held her in a gentle embrace. “Dear one, are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you can leave everything behind for me?”
Her heart ached that he needed to ask, but after their difficulties, she understood why. “Yes, I can do this.”
“Because—” he went on as if she had not spoken “—when you choose to do that, you are choosing the Revolution, too.”
She sighed her agreement. “Yes, I understand.”
“And it means we are at war with your family, including Robert. Including Thomas.”
Marianne looked at Jamie’s cravat, a white silk neckpiece of Robert’s choosing, and sorrow touched the edges of her soul. “I know.”
“You’ve counted the cost?”
Her eyes blurred, but she nodded. “I have counted the cost.”
He brushed away her tears and bent to kiss her, and she stood on tiptoes to give as much as she received. Kissing Jamie Templeton was a very fine diversion, indeed, one she could—and would—engage in as often as possible.
“Captain. Lady Marianne.” Molly knocked on the door, then opened it. “Your minute has passed.”
They moved back from each other just a few inches and laughed.
“Molly…” Jamie set a quick kiss on Marianne’s nose. “You’re an excellent chaperone.”
“Yes, she is.” Marianne leaned against his broad chest, feeling his strength. And wishing, just a bit wickedly, that Molly were not quite so diligent in her duties.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Kezia Marie.” Marianne held her three-month-old niece and cooed softly. “Your mama’s blond hair and your papa’s blue eyes. And all the sweetness of your grandmamma.” She swayed back and forth, gazing at the tiny, perfect round face. “Rachel, how did you choose her name?”
Rachel watched from her chair, a maternal glow on her own face. While she resembled her pleasant-featured sister Susanna, this little lady was a true beauty, and motherhood seemed to enhance her loveliness. “My mother’s name was Kezia, a Bible name. Many girls in Nantucket are named for the daughters of Job. And of course, Marie is for your own mother. Frederick said it would sound silly to call her Kezia Maria, so we change the final a to an e.” Her fair forehead crinkled into a frown of concern. “I pray Lady Bennington won’t mind.”
Marianne laughed. “She will not mind in the least, but oh, how I wish Mama could be here to hold her first grandchild. She was quite thrilled to learn you were expecting.”
“Yes.” Rachel’s smooth forehead crinkled again. “Frederick does not often speak of it, but I know it breaks his heart to live so far from his parents. Well, his mother, at least.” Her face grew scarlet. “Oh, dear. Forgive me. I know your father has always doted on you…I mean, well, my goodness, I do not seem able to say this right at all.”
Marianne kissed her precious niece. “Never mind. I know how Papa has always favored me over my brothers.” Her voice caught. “All that has ended now.”
“Will you write to him?” Rachel lifted her arms to receive her baby, then opened her dressing gown to feed the fussing infant.
Marianne’s own arms suddenly felt empty, and she hugged herself. “Oh, yes. I must tell Papa that I stowed away, that Jamie did not kidnap me.” She walked to the second-story window and gazed toward the indigo fields, where numerous black slaves tilled the green plants. One day soon, she must question Frederick about keeping slaves. “But Jamie says he will not dare to go back.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be wise.” Rachel smiled down at her daughter, humming softly. She had a sweet alto voice, and Marianne looked forward to singing duets with her. “Nor can Frederick return. While he has not told your father—or anyone here in St. Johns Towne—of his decision to support the American Revolution, he knows it would be too difficult to hide from Lord Bennington.”
“Yes, our father always finds a way of disconcerting his sons. My brothers are all good men, but Papa has never made it easy on any of them. I am surprised but grateful that Frederick has found the courage to go this far on his own, something I pray for our three brothers.” Pulling up the fan on her wrist, Marianne waved it before her face. The scrimshaw fan was a gift, carved by Rachel’s father, dear Mr. Folger. Marianne had instantly fallen in love with the old whaler who had raised Jamie so well. “My, did it take you long to grow accustomed to this heat?”
“I can’t really say I have.” Rachel lifted Kezia to her shoulder and patted her back. “I grew up in Massachusetts, and we can have very warm summers there, but the heat is nothing like East Florida’s. However, our many trees provide relief, and cool water comes from deep within the earth to fill our cisterns and revive us.” She gave Marianne a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry we can’t make you more comfortable.”
“I do not mean to complain.” Marianne chided herself for revealing her discomfort. “I would endure far worse to be with Jamie.”
“Yes, I understand.” Rachel kissed Kezia’s forehead. “Betty,” she called toward the bedroom door.
The maid soon appeared. “Yes, Mrs. Moberly.”
“Please change Kezia and see that she naps
.” Rachel gently lifted her baby, and the maid cradled her in her arms. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Betty took the infant away.
“Now.” Rachel rose and walked to her wardrobe. “If you’ll help me into my gown, we can join the men.”
Marianne’s pulse raced. She had patiently waited for Rachel to complete her maternal duties. Now their attention could be focused on the wedding. Her soon-to-be sister quickly dressed, and they held hands and descended the staircase.
The rest of the family awaited them in the drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Folger, handsome older newlyweds, who were Rachel’s father and Marianne’s cousin Lydia, sat hand in hand on the settee. Mr. Saunders and his Molly, along with their friend Mr. Patch, stood nearby. By the hearth, Jamie and Frederick laughed over some private joke, but both broke off abruptly at the appearance of Marianne and Rachel. Jamie was first across the room, with Frederick right behind, and they each claimed their respective ladies.
“Lady Marianne.” Jamie took both of her hands in his, and his dark eyes sparkled with tender affection. “Are you ready to become plain Mrs. Templeton?”
Before she could answer, Frederick nudged his shoulder. “Now, Templeton, remember what I said. She requires much pampering and many compliments, or you will be very sorry. Oh, and do not forget the diversions. She requires parties and balls—”
“Tut, tut.” Marianne tapped her brother’s arm with her new fan. “You are speaking of the child I used to be. In case you have not noticed…”
“She is a wise and beautiful woman,” Jamie finished. “Now, if we can proceed to the church…” The eagerness in his voice sent a thrill through Marianne’s heart, fanning her own excitement.
Amid much chatter and gaiety, the company exited the house, with the ladies taking their places in the carriage and the men riding horseback. Marianne laughed to hear Frederick teasing Jamie about having to ride, and she looked forward to seeing Jamie surprising her brother with his newfound ability to manage a horse more than adequately. Just as she herself planned to manage her home, wherever Jamie decided to settle. For within the hour, Lady Marianne Moberly would cease to exist, and the American housewife with the plain title of Mrs. James Templeton had every intention of taking very good care of her tall, brave, handsome husband.
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