by Chloe Carley
As long as he lived, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself for that. Still, in Dandelion there was a whisker of redemption to be found. He had saved her. She would have a good life because he had rescued her. Maybe, one day, he’d have earned Badger’s pardon.
With Nan in tow, they made their way up to the tower entrance and stepped into the dusty cool of the ancient lighthouse. Precarious, stone steps spiraled all the way up, the slabs worn smooth from years of people walking up and down. Noah stood in the center of the ground floor and looked up through the atrium to the ceiling that seemed a million miles away. He held his breath at the majesty of it.
“Shall we go up?” he suggested. His enthusiasm waned at the sight of Rachel’s terrified face. “I can stay behind you, to catch you if you should fall?”
Her worried expression softened. “Do you promise, Mr. Sharpleton?”
“Of course, Miss Faulks. I have sworn to protect you.”
“Might be best if I stay down here,” Nan muttered, shaking her head at the vertiginous staircase. “Not good with heights, I’m afraid to say. Never have been. Can’t even get up on a cliff without fearing for me life.”
Rachel folded her arms across her chest. “Perhaps, I should stay with you, Nan?”
“Nonsense, miss. Get yourself up those steps while you’ve got the knees to do it,” she encouraged. “Might as well get the most out of your sprightly limbs while everything’s where it ought to be and there’s no creaking in your bones.”
“I promise I won’t let you fall, Miss Faulks. I will be with you every step of the way.” Noah offered her a reassuring smile. Heights didn’t frighten him in the least, not after years of clambering up and down rigging, spying from the crow’s nest, and sitting astride the topsail beams.
A nervous grin spread across her face. “Very well.”
Before he could stop her, she mounted the steps and began her ascension. He hurried after her, keeping his eyes focused on her steady movements. Fortunately, the responsibility was not entirely on him. A rope snaked all the way up the staircase and she held onto it for dear life. Her knuckles whitened with each grip.
A few steps up, his throat constricted. In order to keep from tripping over the fabric, Rachel had been forced to lift the hem of her skirt a little way up her leg. He couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her stockinged ankle. A shocking sight indeed. And yet, he could not deny that she had very pretty ankles.
Focus on her, he chided himself. If she falls because you are staring at her ankle, there will be one more thing you cannot forgive yourself for.
The higher up they got, the more visibly nervous Rachel became. Her hand gripped the rope ever tighter while her breaths came quicker and faster. Her entire body appeared to be trembling and anxiety bristled from her in waves. Noah struggled against the urge to take her hand as a means to comfort her. With a lesser-born young lady, he might have done, but he could not with her. All he could do was watch her and utter encouraging words.
“We are almost there, Miss Faulks,” he said softly. “You have done tremendously well. I daresay, I have never encountered a young woman with more bravery.”
“Do you really mean that?” She turned over her shoulder to look at him. Distracted for just a moment, the toe of her shoe caught in the flowing hem of her dress. Her eyes flew wide with abject terror as she lost her balance. It all happened in a split-second. One moment, she was safe and steady, the next, she was tumbling to the side of the stone steps. Her hand reached out frantically for the guide rope, her fingers clawing at empty air.
At the bottom of the tower, Nan screamed.
Seizing the rope in one hand, Noah lunged forward and grasped at Rachel’s flailing figure. He caught hold of her wrist in one deft movement, his grip strong and firm as he hauled her back up onto the edge of the stone steps. The force of his powerful pull sent her careening into him, her palms smacking into the firm contours of his chest. He stumbled backward to accommodate her, his spine hitting the thick stone wall with a thud. Keeping one hand on the guide rope, he released Rachel’s wrist and put his arm around her, giving her a moment to regain her balance by using him as a brace.
“You are safe, Miss Faulks. I have you.”
She gasped frantically against his shoulder, her arms clinging to him. “I… I fell.”
“You would never have fallen. I caught you,” he promised. “I would always have caught you, no matter what. You were in no danger. I promised to keep you safe and I will do so until you are no longer under my care.”
Her arms tightened around him. “I… I tripped… I…”
“I know, I know,” he soothed. “You are quite safe now, Miss Faulks. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
She looked up into his eyes. “You saved me.”
“I was doing my duty, Miss Faulks.”
“You might have died, too.”
“Neither of us were going to die today,” he assured. “I had you. I kept my eye on you, as I promised.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes more. Noah knew he ought to move away from her, given the impropriety of the situation, but he figured there were exceptions to every rule—saving a terrified girl’s life and comforting her in the wake of her terror counted as one such exception, as far as he was concerned. He could feel her panicked heart pounding beneath the fabric of her gown, fluttering rapidly like a tiny bird. It matched the sprint of his own.
“I am going to let you go now, Miss Faulks,” he murmured. “We are going to make it to the top of this tower and we shall conquer it like proud warriors. How does that sound?”
“I want to go back down,” she whimpered, gripping him hard. “Do not let go of me, I beg of you.”
“I shall be behind you, every step of the way,” he promised. “You may hold onto my arm for comfort if you wish, but we cannot allow this staircase to conquer us. We must never allow our fears to wield that kind of power over us, do you hear?”
She peered up at him, wide-eyed. “You promise you will not let go?”
“I promise.”
Her head dipped in the tiniest of nods. “Then… we should reach the summit.”
“Let us conquer this, Miss Faulks.” He offered her his arm which she clung to with razor-sharp nails that dug into his skin. He did not mind. As long as he got her safely to the top, to put a stop to her living in terror of new adventures, he could live with every crescent wound.
Five minutes later, they reached a doorway in the solid stone wall. Pushing it open, they stepped out onto the tower’s upper battlement. The view that greeted them was worth every panicked step and near-miss that it had taken to get up there. Wandering over to the low wall, they looked out at the gleaming ocean, the vast expanse of water stretching as far as the eye could see. From here, they had a bird’s eye view of the town and port, too; the people milling about like miniature versions of themselves. Meanwhile, the boats looked like toys and the rolling countryside behind was filled with grazing animals that sought the shadows of clustered lemon-trees. Noah could see the last of the season’s ripe fruits, plump and yellow, lingering on the dark branches.
Turning back to the ocean, he squinted toward the distance, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of that emerald isle. Even on such a clear day, there was no sign of it. Rachel, on the other hand, seemed otherwise preoccupied. Her gaze had turned toward the minaret above where the lamplight flashed at night to keep the sailors safe from the rocks. However, she didn’t seem to be admiring the architecture. Something else had grabbed her attention. Scanning the wall, Noah noticed it a second later; there was something stuck on a ledge, halfway up the next level of the tower’s summit. It trembled in the cool wind that whipped up from the sea.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, moving toward it. Noah followed close behind.
Panting on the ledge with one wing outstretched, sat a small bird. Noah had seen one like it, many years ago, though he couldn’t quite recall the name of it. Regardless, it appe
ared to be a finch with a chartreuse belly and a mostly gray head, it’s wings were striped with black and the same shade of yellowy-green. It looked up at them with weary black eyes as they approached.
“I believe it is injured. See, there are several feathers missing,” he said, observing the angle of its open wing. The other was neatly tucked against the flat of its back, suggesting something was very wrong.
“There is blood… Oh goodness, what on Earth has happened to you?” she murmured, reaching tentatively towards the tiny bird. It opened it’s mouth as Rachel neared and chirped the sweetest song. To Noah’s surprise, it did not move or try to fly away. Instead, it’s head shrank deeper into it’s breast, it’s eyes glancing cautiously at its rescuer.
“It may be kinder to leave it here, Miss Faulks.”
Rachel shot him a defiant look. “I will not, Mr. Sharpleton. This creature requires our help. We must do what we can.”
“You wish to take it back to the ship?” He glanced at her uncertainly.
“I do,” she said curtly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I shall have Doctor Bentham see to this poor beast as soon as we have returned.”
He sighed in exasperation; there was no use arguing with her. “May I?”
“May you what?”
He held out his hands to take the bird.
“No, Mr. Sharpleton. You will drop it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Did I drop you?”
“You make a cruel, though rather excellent, point,” she grumbled. Stroking the soft feathers of the bird for a moment or two longer to calm it right down, she reluctantly lifted the creature and deposited it in Noah’s open hands.
Carefully, he tucked the tiny thing under the lapel of his jacket and turned to Rachel. “We must make haste if this bird is to live,” he urged, ignoring her shocked face. Evidently, she had not expected him to put the bird inside his jacket.
“Very well, Mr. Sharpleton, but if you crush that dear little thing, I shall never forgive you.”
“I will be gentle, Miss Faulks.”
With that, they walked back to the doorway and made the careful descent back down to the ground. Nan still stood at the bottom of the steps with Dandelion beside her, both of them peering up. This time, Noah went first. If Rachel happened to stumble again, he would be there to break her fall.
All the way down, the bird chirruped inside his lapel. Noah hated to admit it, but part of him was glad they had rescued the tiny creature. Even injured, it seemed to have a rather mischievous personality. Besides, this way, it would stand a fighting chance of survival. Had they left it up there, a hawk would almost certainly have snatched it up, if the cold and the wind hadn’t got to it first.
Now, how to hide this one from Captain Frodsham? he mused. At this rate, they were going to have an entire menagerie by the time they docked in America.
Chapter Eleven
Night-time on-board the Emerald fell like a blanket of eerie silence with nothing but the lapping waves to disturb the still quiet. Rachel tossed and turned beneath the covers of her four-poster bed. Moonlight glanced in through the ship’s window, reminding her of the galerías in the harbor town of A Coruña. The day’s exploits had left her exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Her body ached and her mind raced, her thoughts haunted by the memory of the tower stairwell.
He caught me, she reminded herself. He would not have let me fall, no matter his disdain for my kind of people. Even so, it was a hard event to process. The only thing that took her mind off it was the tiny bird they had discovered, injured on the ledge. Doctor Bentham had taken the creature into his care, setting the broken wing in a splint to fix it.
Checking the carriage clock that rested on the mantelpiece, she saw that it was past two o’clock in the morning. It didn’t seem likely that sleep would come any time soon. Restless, she threw back the covers and dressed in her simplest gown. Nan was asleep in the next-door chamber and Rachel did not have the heart to wake the old woman to assist with her corset. Dispensing with it entirely, she knelt to give Dandelion’s ears a scratch. The Irish Wolfhound stirred in her slumber.
Silently, she slipped across the plush rugs that Captain Frodsham had acquired to accommodate her and let herself out of the heavy wooden door. The last few embers of the fire glowed in the grate. She paused for a moment to warm her hands before heading over to the Empire Suite’s entrance. Unlocking it, she peered out at the empty deck. Everyone on-duty would be up in the crow’s nest or sheltering from the cold at the front of the ship, watching it cut through the water.
Satisfied that nobody would notice her, she grasped a shawl from one of the armchairs and ducked out into the bitter night. Closing the door quietly behind her, she hurried across the deck as fast as her stockinged feet would carry her. Reaching the steps that led below, she edged down the first few to make sure the coast was clear. The hallways were devoid of life, though the rumble of snoring men echoed back to her.
Her mind drifted toward thoughts of Noah, wondering which cabin was his. A series of doors branched off from the main network of musty corridors, but they all looked the same to her. There wasn’t a single distinguishing feature.
Pulling her shawl tighter about her, she pushed on through the hallways, heading for Doctor Bentham’s makeshift surgery. He would not be there so late at night, as he always retired to his chambers shortly after the men had their evening meal. It gave her comfort to know that everyone was asleep. Had they not been, she would not have dared to sneak out without company. Or Dandelion, at the very least.
Something about her adventures in A Coruña had given her a taste for freedom; a spark of independence that she had never known existed. This was her tiny rebellion. A night-time visit to the tiny bird who had captured her heart.
A few moments later, she reached the door of Doctor Bentham’s surgery and let herself in. It was not locked, given that the physician stowed all of his medicines away in a chained box in his personal chambers, out of reach of thieving hands. A chill started to shiver across her skin as she scurried over to one of the oil-lamps which sat to one side of Doctor Bentham’s desk. Taking up a box of matches, she struck one and lit the wick. An anemic glow cast its paltry light on the room, revealing rows of books, trays filled with rather worrying implements, and a wooden table in the center. Rusty bloodstains formed a patchwork across the splintered surface.
Rachel shuddered. How many men have taken their last breath on that table? How many men have cried out in pain, not knowing if they might live through the next moment? She dreaded to think.
At the far side of the room, in a little wooden box, Rachel heard a quiet chirrup. She walked over with the lamp in hand and peered down at the small bird. It ruffled it’s feathers, as though pleased to see her. She smiled and brushed the soft down behind its head with her forefinger. It felt soft beneath her skin.
“And how are we this evening, little Peridot?” she asked. The name had come to her upon delivery of the bird to Doctor Bentham. Given the chartreuse coloring of its feathers, so similar to the semi-precious stone, she had deemed it entirely fitting. Noah had suggested she call it Perry for short, but she had no intention of doing so. Just as she had no intention of calling Dandelion ‘Dandy.’
She was about to reach into the box when a floorboard creaked behind her. Her heart leaped into her throat as another followed. Hardly daring to turn around for fear of what she might see, she gripped tighter to the oil-lamp’s handle. A third creak ricocheted through the still air, sending a shiver of terror up her spine.
A bone-handled knife lay on the tabletop nearby. Slowly, she stretched her trembling fingers out to grasp it.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a familiar voice growled.
She whirled around at last only to be greeted by the black eyes of Garrick. His scarred mouth twisted up in a grimace of sickening satisfaction. Ignoring his cold words, she snatched up the blade and staggered back against the counter. Keeping the rough edge at her back, she
shuffled along until she had put the wooden table between them.
“Get away from me,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than a squeak. In the wooden box, the finch chirped loudly. A faint, hopeless alarm.
Garrick grinned. “Where’s the mangy beast? Foolish not to bring it along, wouldn’t you say?”
“Leave me be or I shall scream this ship down.”
“I doubt you could get a proper breath past those lips of yours right now, darling.” He chuckled maliciously. “Look at you, you can barely hold that knife in your hand.” He took a step toward her, and she realized the futility of her actions. All she had done was pen herself in further. If she tried to run for the door, he would seize her. If she tried to skirt around it, he would seize her. There was no escape.
