by Chloe Carley
Now, he was alone. And it was all because of people like Miss Faulks, who thought themselves above folks such him.
“She may seek you out when she is willing to hear your apology, Mr. Sharpton,” Nan replied, after a pause.
“It is Sharpleton and I pray you would allow me to speak with Miss Faulks now.”
“Why the urgency?”
“I must know that she is faring better. Captain Frodsham has asked that I check on her wellbeing as we shall soon be at the Irish coast to pick up some cargo from Dublin that is bound for America. It will be her only chance to disembark or change her mind before we move down towards Spain.” He really wished she would change her mind.
The door flung wide open and Miss Faulks herself stood just shy of the threshold. Her already-pale face had drained to a ghostly pallor tinged with green and there were dark circles beneath her deep brown eyes. No color flushed the apples of her cheeks and ghoulish shadows carved out hollows beneath her cheekbones. It looked as though she hadn’t slept in days and the bump of every wave was causing her to feel nauseous.
“I am quite well, Mr. Sharpleton, as you can see,” she rasped, gripping the doorframe for dear life. “The ship’s physician has been to see me and he has insisted that I am in perfect health. A little seasickness plagues me, that is all. The fainting has ceased—it was a momentary lapse caused by a sleepless night, nothing more.”
Noah frowned. “Are you certain, Miss Faulks? May I bring you anything to lessen your discomfort?” Despite calling him a rogue and a villain, he could not help but feel sorry for the young woman. She looked to be suffering greatly, and the waves were not even that large. He could only imagine how she would fare out on the turbulent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
“I am quite well,” she repeated pointedly. “I wish only to rest in peace, without disturbance from you or anyone else from the crew. I am sure they are pleasant enough, but I do not care for anyone to see me in such a state as this. It is why I did not want to answer you personally, though I see you are as obstinate as you are uncouth.”
“I am neither obstinate nor uncouth, Miss Faulks. My behavior on the wharf was well intended, as I have explained. And my visit to your suite door was also well-intended.” He fought to keep the coldness from his voice. As he had suspected, she was just the same as every other upper-class lady. “You judge me much too severely, miss, and I do not deserve it.”
She looked taken aback, the palest hint of an embarrassed flush tinting her cheeks. “You have said quite enough, Mr. Sharpleton. I should like to be left alone now if you please?”
“As you wish, Miss Faulks.”
“If I require your assistance, I shall call for it. Until then, I would ask that you refrain from disturbing me again.”
“Certainly, Miss Faulks.” This time, he made no effort to keep the taciturn note from his voice. She did not deserve his attempts at civility, not until she could learn how to be gracious toward him in turn. Until that day came, he would do as she asked and keep his distance. If it forced him to watch her from afar in order to keep to his end of Benjamin’s bargain, then so be it. He would not beg for her attention… not now, not ever.
Chapter Six
“Where is Mr. Sharpleton?” Rachel croaked as she crept through the fetid cabin towards the door. “Why has he not returned to fulfil his duties as our guard?” Her entire body trembled with weakness, her stomach empty and her throat parched. All around her, the stale scent of vomit lingered in the air like spoiled milk.
“Because you turned him away, remember?” Nan replied bluntly. She sat in the farthest corner of the main room with her knees tucked up to her chin, her head buried between their peaks. A shawl lay draped over her wiry gray hair revealing only a strip of forehead to mark her out against the cabin’s décor. The old woman had taken ill shortly after Rachel had and the two of them had barely been able to stand ever since. Every movement made their stomachs churn and their mouths fill with saliva.
Rachel no longer knew where they were or how she had come to be there, only that she now existed in an endless loop of sleep and sickness, sleep and sickness, sleep and sickness. Brought so low by the misery of her nausea, she was even contemplating apologizing to Mr. Sharpleton for her previous curtness and begging for a cold drink to ease her fever. After all, he had not been so uncouth, now that she had been given time to think about it. He had grabbed her in order to stop her from falling into the water—he had said as much himself. Why should she not believe him? He had not given her any reason to doubt his propriety.
And yet, she knew it was important to maintain a certain degree of wariness when it came to gentlemen. Emily had always told her that young men of lesser-breeding were unseemly and not to be spoken to under any circumstances. She could only imagine what Emily might say about Mr. Sharpleton grabbing her the way he had. She certainly wouldn’t have encouraged Rachel to seek out the young man’s assistance, regardless of her suffering. Emily was far worldlier than Rachel who liked to keep herself to herself for the most part. In truth, most of what Rachel knew about the world came from her dearest friend, for better or for worse.
You must remember what she told you about the crew, she thought between waves of nausea. She told you that you did not need to trust them and that you ought to remain in your cabin as often as you can. No harm can come to you if you stay in your cabin—that is what she told you, Rachel. And yet… I do so wish I could have a drink of some sort.
“If I am not mistaken, you were the one to send him away,” Rachel muttered defensively.
“At your request, Miss Faulks.”
Rachel groaned as she reached out for the door handle. A wave of nausea prompted her to pause. She knew that a simple, firm push stood between her and the outer deck, where she could hear voices calling to one another.
An hour ago, she had stirred from her bed to the rattling scrape of the vessel coming into port. She remembered Mr. Sharpleton saying something about Dublin and picking up cargo. More than that, she recalled him mentioning the opportunity to disembark. If anything could shake the deep-seated nausea in her stomach, she knew it was fresh air and dry land. Whilst it was true that there was no turning back from her voyage to the Americas, she could certainly enjoy the momentary intermission of the Irish coast.
Seagulls wheeled and squawked beyond the curtained windows, screeching their displeasure at the humans below. In the distance, she heard the unmistakable babble of bustling docklands, with traders hawking their goods and sailors calling instructions to their crewmates. It had come as a surprise to her, but she longed to be out there with them instead of cooped up in her cabin with nothing but Nan and a bout of seasickness to keep her company.
“Miss Faulks?” A light knock rapped on the surface of the Empire Suite’s door.
Rachel heaved out a sigh of relief. “Mr. Sharpleton?”
“Yes, may I come in?”
“Please do.” She stood back from the door as he swung it open. His eyes went wide in alarm as he surveyed the room.
“Goodness me… shall I send for the physician again?”
She shook her head and lifted her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the vicious sunlight that streamed in through the door. He stood silhouetted against it—a handsome young man somewhere in the latter part of his twenties with hair the color of autumn and light-brown eyes that bore a glitter of concern. He was taller than she remembered, with broad shoulders and an athletic frame that carried his uniform well. He wore the same unusual military hodgepodge of green and purple that Captain Frodsham had been wearing that morning, though it suited Mr. Sharpleton far better. Regardless, Emily’s words resounded in her mind. Lesser men were not to be trusted or entertained.
“Are you certain, Miss Faulks? You do not look to be in good health.”
“It is the seasickness,” she assured. “Now that we have come into port, I am sure the upset shall pass.”
“Might I escort you into the dock, so you can safely w
alk around at your leisure?”
She flashed him an uncertain look. “I do not think that would be appropriate, Mr. Sharpleton.”
“Naturally, I was extending the invitation to your chaperone,” he replied sharply. She thought she had heard the curt tone in his voice the last time they had spoken, but she had chosen to put it down to her delirium. Now, there was no ignoring it. The hint of displeasure was as clear as day, despite her sickness.
“As you can see, my chaperone is also unwell,” Rachel said, matching the note in his voice.
“In that case, may I offer you the opportunity to walk on the main deck? Your chaperone may safely watch from the comfort of the suite while you take in a little fresh air. The crew have all gone on-shore, so there will be nobody around to disturb your peace.”
There it is, that note of disdain again! What have I done to attract such contempt from this gentleman? Not that he is a true gentleman, of course. Well… not that I know, anyway. I do not imagine he can be when his work is of this nature, she mused. How can he speak to me in such a manner? Does he not realize how rude he is being? Perhaps he does not. Perhaps he never learned how to behave around polite society.
“Must you accompany me?”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “I have been charged with watching over yourself and your chaperone. As such, if you wish to walk about the deck or any other part of the ship, I must escort you.” He offered a tight smile. “However, you may rest assured that I will not seek to protect you in the same manner that proved so uncouth to your sensibilities. I will continue to keep my distance, as you have requested.”
So, that is it, she thought. You have wounded his pride and now he is acting coldly toward you as punishment. Well, he may behave childishly if he wishes to. I shall not alter my own behavior to suit him, not when he is the one in the wrong. Although… I very much wish to take a turn about the main deck, especially whilst there are no other crew members around.
“Very well, I shall accept your suggestion,” Rachel said, after a brief pause. “If Nan will watch from the windows, then I will walk on the main deck for a while.”
Nan groaned from the corner of the room. “I will, miss, if I can haul myself up to the ledge.”
“Will you permit me to help you?” Noah asked.
“Of course, lad, I don’t mind you grabbing at me waist willy-nilly.”
Noah smiled shyly. “Is it acceptable if I come into the suite, just to help your chaperone?”
Rachel frowned. “I suppose.”
With a small bow in her direction, Noah strode past and moved toward Nan. Talking in a low voice just out of Rachel’s earshot, he lifted Nan by the arms and helped her into the window-seat. The old woman wrapped two of her four shawls tighter around her body and leaned up against the crosshatched pane, her sharp eyes staring outward.
“Are you cold? Can I get you more blankets?” Noah asked.
Nan turned to smile at him. “The tremor is deeper than me bones, dear lad. It is naught to do with the cold, worry not. Though I thank you for your kindness.”
“Are you sure? I can have tea brought to you if you would care for it?”
“Oh, now, if you’re offering tea, I’ll be more than happy to have some.”
Noah nodded. “I shall have some sent to your rooms as soon as Miss Faulks is finished with her walk.” He paused. “Actually, perhaps I will have the tea things set up on the deck above this suite, so that one of the boys may come in here and clean up a little. Would that be helpful to you? Nobody will bother you on the top deck—it is solely for your use.”
“That would be wonderful, Mr. Sharpleton,” Rachel replied, wanting to feel included in their conversation. She did not understand why he was being so pleasant to Nan and so standoffish towards her. Surely, she had not wounded his pride so deeply? Then again, gentlemen were curious creatures to her—she did not know their ways and nuances.
“Very good, then I shall have it seen to once you are satisfied with your turn about the deck.”
“Thank you.” Rachel stepped out into the glare of the sunlight, waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust. The gentle wash of a cool breeze drifted over her feverish cheeks, easing their heat. Now, if she could only rid herself of the grimy, crawling sensation that made its way across her skin. She feared she would not be free of it until they reached American shores.
Curiosity led her towards the balustrade which faced the Dublin dockland. She could not walk far without feeling shaky and sick, but the vessel’s wooden boundary provided the perfect spot to stop and rest while drawing in some much-needed air. Leaning up against the smooth, flat surface, she peered down at the hubbub of activity below. It looked different to the docks of Liverpool and yet the core function remained the same. Traders yelled up and down the wharf while ruddy-cheeked women descaled fish after fish, lobbing them into waiting baskets. The scenery had changed, but the actors were almost identical. Sailors jested with one another, laughing and shoving all the way along the docks. Meanwhile, drunkards and beggars sat up against the sea-slicked walls, the masonry moistened with years of spray and sludge, whilst ne’er-do-wells loitered in the shadows.
Rachel gasped as her eyes fell upon an enormous dog that ambled along the stone promenade which ran parallel to the dock itself. It was oddly majestic, despite its shaggy exterior. Gray fur swept over it’s sad eyes and a pink tongue lolled from one side of its mouth. It looked like it hadn’t eaten in a long time, it’s ribs showing through the gray fur that covered it’s body in matted tufts. The threadbare hound looked so lost and miserable that Rachel couldn’t bear to tear her gaze away.
“Is something the matter with that poor creature?” she asked, as Noah approached.
“Not especially. Probably a stray by the looks of it,” he replied, his voice carrying an unexpected hint of sadness. “An Irish Wolfhound if I’m not mistaken. Beautiful animals, when they aren’t brought to the brink of destitution like that one.”
“I think that one is perfectly splendid.”
“With a good meal and some care, it would be.”
“Then, perhaps we should rescue the beast?”
Noah looked at her as though she were quite insane. “Rescue it?”
“Why should we not? That poor creature is in need of help, and I am quite willing to offer my assistance. There is plenty of food and water on-board—I would be more than happy to offer recompense for any inconvenience the dog may cause, both to yourself and to Captain Frodsham,” she urged. “Besides, I thought every ship was supposed to have a dog?”
“You are mistaken. Many ships choose to have a cat or a mascot such as a monkey or a rat—it does not always have to be a dog.”
“Even so, might we rescue this one?” she pleaded, her heart aching for the starved creature with the sad eyes.
“And where are we to put the beast, Miss Faulks?”
“It shall remain in my cabin where I shall care for it with the utmost fondness. The hound is rather majestic, is it not?”
Noah laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Besides, I shall feel much safer with a dog at my side.”
“Safer from whom?” His eyes shifted towards the colder end of the spectrum once more.
“A young lady traveling with a single chaperone can never be too careful,” she replied firmly. “I must also consider my journey through the Spanish territories, Mr. Sharpleton, once I reach the end of this sea voyage. A dog such as that one would make me feel less afraid, moving through unknown lands.”
“Then… how can I refuse?” Noah sighed, though Rachel could tell that he was amused. Perhaps, he was thawing towards her after all. “Although, you shall have to explain it to Captain Frodsham when he returns.”
“Oh, Mr. Sharpleton, I shall!” She clapped her hands together in delight. “Does this mean you will assist me in rescuing the beast?”
Noah shrugged. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“Alas, you do not. As my appointe
d sentinel, I insist that you help me retrieve that glorious dog.” She flashed the young man an excited smile, though she quickly covered it with a mask of mature sincerity. She did not want him to think she was a silly little girl, won over by forlorn hounds and mischievous adventures. As their eyes met, his vague expression altered to one of utter bemusement. Evidently, he no longer knew what to make of her.
