Dare To Love

by Trisha Fuentes

  My Dearest Mary,

  To a precocious, fun-loving and curious little girl. Even though we haven’t met yet, I feel we are formerly acquainted. Having missed so many birthdays, I hope these gifts greet you with happiness and joy, as I felt tranquility sending them to you. Take care of the larger present, he needs special attention only you can provide.

  Always in my heart, Father

  “Father? But I don’t have a father—Mummie?” Mary shouted off the top of her lungs for everyone to hear.

  Gwendolyn rushed to her daughters’ side and tried to change the subject. A crimson thrash surged up her neck and she hoped to God no one noticed. “Let’s see what is in the brown box, shall we? Open it darling, you know how mother hates mysteries!”

  Mary untied the string and ripped open the carton. Inside was more paper followed by the finest silk she had ever seen. Mary’s green eyes flew open wide at the sight of burgundy velvet, boots, hat, and rider’s crop. “Oh Mummie,” she gushed, “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful before?”

  Gwendolyn leaned down in amazement. “No darling, I haven’t,” she simply said, reaching down to feel the silky textile.

  “It is sort of a silly present though, such a fancy dress to ride on a pony.”

  Gwendolyn began to laugh, and so did others who gathered around to take a look at the outfit.

  Mary held the jacket up to her body and admired the smoothness of the fabric. Within trying it on, she discovered a lump in one of its pockets. Out of the pocket, she noticed a carrot. “What is this—”

  Gwendolyn eyed her daughter’s surprised look. “What is it?” “A carrot,” Mary called out, showing everyone her discovery. “For the larger present,” the coachman stated who waited in the wings until the girl opened the box, per his instructions. The man hobbled over to the enclosed wagon and opened up the two doors in the rear. He motioned for Mary to come take a look, and all the other children ran over with her.

  Mary stood mesmerized for a moment, and then reached in the pocket for the carrot. Gwendolyn stood immobilized and watched in utter shock as the magnificent black steed she remembered Katrina riding on so long ago came trotting out of the enclosure. The villagers gasped in revelation as the horse followed Mary who continued to hold its enticement. She petted the horses raven mane and ravished its existence.

  “Oh Mummie,” Mary cried, a loss for words for the very first time. “ I have seen something more beautiful. He is gorgeous Mummie, simply gorgeous!”

  Gwendolyn stood crying and eyed Phyllis who was also in shock. “What a grand present to give his daughter,” Phyllis uttered sorrowfully, “You see, he has not forsaken his obligations.”

  Gwendolyn wiped away her tears, “He should have delivered them himself.” She stated, pulling up her skirts and running towards her cottage to have a good cry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  After Captain Hummel secretly undermined the original plan to meet Thomas and Devin at Le Havre, he took Anne and the Junia and headed off to Gibraltar instead. The two lords were forced to stay in France another week to wait for the Endeavor, a merchant ship under the employ of the Hollinger Commerce Company.

  The Endeavor was on its way back in from the West Indies. While fearful Cape Horn consumed many ships and crew without a trace in violent southern seas, the ultimate graveyard of ships was 8,000 miles northeast in Britain’s granite-fanged Scilly Isles and the headlands of Cornwall. Lying 25 miles off Land’s End, the 50 islets of the Scillies covered only 50 square miles, the Scillies divided the Bristol Channel from the English Channel, endangering all ships trying to find their way home. The Endeavor nearly met her doom; the menacing tides, gloomy fogs, diabolical gales and monstrous seas mislead her compass, nearly losing her existence upon the reefs.

  It would be another week until the Endeavor would reach English refuge and Thomas could not wait that long. After nearly drinking himself into oblivion with French red wine, Thomas was never happier to see a Yank.

  Inebriated, and on the verge of lunacy from further inconsiderateness, Thomas thumped towards Captain Whitlock. “Captain—Captain— Captain!”

  Captain Whitlock turned to look at Thomas staggering towards him. “Well, hey, if it isn’t the look-alike…what is your name again? Lord something?”

  “Thomas…call me Thomas, ole friend, ole buddy of mine,” Thomas joked around, patting the man on his chest, whipping his other arm around his neck.

  “Thomas, right,” Tim replied, rolling his eyes away from his forwardness. “What can I do for you?”

  Thomas gulped, and then his hands found Tim’s shoulders. “Please tell me you are on your way to London.”

  Tim’s eyes lit up. “How did’ ya know? On my way there in two days, in fact. Just have to finish up some business here. Need to reload my cargo, then I’m off to Bristol.”

  “Outstanding!” Thomas shouted, walloping Devin out of a lip lock with a barmaid.

  All during the voyage towards Bristol, Thomas anticipated every angle. Katrina was abandoned at the altar. He never held the chance of speaking with her beforehand, and he was sure that she was furious. Then Gwendolyn and her puzzling note. She wrote she was having second thoughts? It did not make any sense. Her physical feelings were hard to ignore…showing him her mindset…did that mean she was in love with him? Each time she clung to him, touched his chest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in affection his heart expanded with joy. Fulfilling his fantasy of her yielding to his every suggestion, she responded to him unlike no other, and he relished in the fact that she admitted being his. Was it all a mirage? Or a final farewell? He should have told her that evening that he loved her, that was stupid, stupid, stupid of him not to say anything, but he was so hungry to hear her say it first. He finally snared what he longed for, Gwendolyn’s absolute focus, only to have it yanked away by her reconsideration? Was she really going back to that overgrown simpleton? How could Gwendolyn so easily accept his body and then receive intimacy of that buffoon?

  “Cannot thank you enough, Tim,” Thomas expressed, shaking hands with Captain Whitlock. “Anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.” Thomas added, gazing towards the pier, expecting to see her face. Where was she? Where was Gwendolyn?

  Devin then extended his hand out to the Captain himself, “Thanks for the use of the sword,” he laughed, combing his hair with his other hand. “Monsieur Bruneau looks nice with his new scarred face, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The three men all expressed amusement when Thomas gazed over at his ships in the harbor. “You need help with your cargo Tim?” “Help? Why yes, I am oftentimes overloaded. But with one ship—” “Surely you could use an extra hand.”

  “Sure can, but I can’t afford to purchase another boat.”

  “Then take your pick,” Thomas waived, extending his hand over his brigade of vessels.

  Tim stood agape and eyed all the many crafts with the “HCC” flag raised up her masts.

  Devin and Thomas were barely walking down the pier when they were harried by endless questions:

  “Where were you?” “What happened” “What took you so bloody long?”

  Thomas had a few of his own for Mrs. Hornebrook and Fitzwater when he met Katrina’s eyes. She was not angry, rather the contrary, she looked scared. He watched her give her brother a welcoming hug, then observed her drawing near.

  “May I have a word?”

  “Certainly,” Thomas announced, motioning for her brother to linger alone, he then noticed Henry arriving alongside Devin, shaking his hand.

  Katrina had to spurt out what she was going to say before she lost her nerve. “Thomas, let me begin by telling you that I was terribly upset when you abandoned me on our wedding day. The pain from the embarrassment will brand me evermore.”

  “I know—”

  “Let me finish, Thomas,” she said, wiping away a tear. “I meant what I said when I told you that I cared for you. But a woman like me has goals and I could not be kept in suspension f
orever. Not once have I heard you speak of your devotion to me, and yet, I believed it would come with our nuptials. I am no martyr Thomas, I am a social climber and I am sorry to say that I used you to gain status in the ton.”

  Thomas laughed and fingered the lining in his hat. What a relief, she was letting him down? “A social climber?” He quipped with a sneer, “Why, I knew that the first day I met you,” he paused, having had a better word for it, like snob. “But that inspiration did not scare me away, love,” he voiced, lowering his intonation. “Why, I exercised you as well. No hard feelings, we had fun, did we not?”

  Katrina was beet red. Her dismissal was not going according to plan, instead of him afflicted with remorse; it was she who was suddenly feeling grief jabbing at her heart. “I married Henry.”

  Thomas did not seem the least bit surprised, he knew her too well and Katrina had been spoiled to the core. If she did not get what she wanted immediately, she had to lash out and try to harm him instead. He turned around and judged her new husband. Henry stood defeated and lowered his eyes. “Did you now?” Thomas cracked, turning back around to meet Katrina’s resentment. “Does he make a fine husband?”

  “Yes,” Katrina added with a stiff upper lip. “Henry is a good man.”

  Thomas lowered his voice to a charming timbre, “Does he finish you as well?”

  Katrina stared at his lips and felt her own separating. No, she thought, but she would never admit to that. Henry was a pleasant lover, while Thomas was sinfully carnal. Still allured by his engaging glare, she said, “Yes, we are enceinte.”

  Thomas perked up immediately, “Why, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!” He presented, whirling around and walking towards Devin and Henry. “I could not be happier,” he remarked, patting Henry on the back. “Congratulations, ole boy, I guess this means you’ll be asking for an increase in pay?”

  Henry laughed and stood erect now. “I must say Thomas; you are taking this news very well.”

  Thomas had news of his own to share, if only…if only he knew her reply? He had expected to see Gwendolyn here receiving him with open arms, but she was nowhere in sight. Thomas gazed around the threesome and spotted Mrs. Hornebrook with Fitzwater. “Mrs. Hornebrook, has any letters been delivered to the manor?”

  “Letters, Your Grace?” Mrs. Hornebrook questioned back. “Just the usual mail, social invitations, tax statements, invoices and receipts.”

  Thomas stood grave, he then looked at Fitzwater. “Have you seen or heard from her Fitzwater?”

  Fitzwater knew exactly whom he was speaking of. “No, sir,” he answered feeling melancholy for his employer.

  “You did get my note, is that correct? Regarding the delivery of the gifts?” Thomas asked dejected.

  “Yes sir and they were promptly sent,” Mrs. Hornebrook lied, feeling his anguish with each realization. She did not have the heart to tell him that they were barely sent three weeks ago due to bad weather.

  “When?” Thomas quietly asked, bowing his head, taking off his hat.

  “Four months ago, sir.” Fitzwater confirmed, wavering also.

  Thomas then closed his eyes. Four months…with no reply? What does he have to do to make her love him? Why does she keep treating him this way? What was wrong with her? Runs away when he gets too close, some kind of panicky reaction when emotions get excessively comfortable. He loved her more than ever before only to have his heart crushed once again. What cruelty! What pain! Worse than the floggings he used to receive when he had stolen food. Amplified torment knowing she did it deliberately. Used his flesh and then discarded what she couldn’t fit into a traveling case. What a fool he was, what a complete and utter fool to hang onto such a small expectation that they’d finally be a real family. All that hope and probability blown to smithereens! She must have married her Scotsmen, he realized; must be kept under harsh boundaries to not utter another word. Oh God in heaven, Gwendolyn had made her choice, and now…so should he.

  Thomas pulled away from his servants and headed off to be alone, not recognizing his friends attempt to call him over, or Katrina’s shattered reconsideration.

  Katrina watched him trudge away and her heart fell to the ground. “Thomas!” She shrieked, spinning Devin’s head around towards her fright.

  Devin immediately rushed to her side and grabbed his sister by the shoulders. “Stop it, Katrina, stop it. Your husband is barely two feet away, and here his wife is crying after another man? Show some restraint, will you?”

  Katrina buried her face into her brother’s shoulder and continued to watch Thomas melt through the crowd. Her heart was shattering in an earth-crushing whack. Tears began to fall from her eyes, as she shut them tense realizing she could no longer see him clearly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Why willna ya marry me, Gwendolyn?” Charles asked, dropping the flowers to his side. “The townspeople all believe we are already married. I do not wish to pretend, I want ya tae be by me side.”

  Gwendolyn remained in a lying position on a lounge in her parlor, a knitted shawl across her torso and legs. She was not feeling well that morning and decided to stay in seclusion. “You are a wonderful man Charles, and I do not want to hurt you.”

  “Why wood marrying me, torment me?”

  “Because it would not be fair…because you would be sharing a life with a woman whose heart belonged to another.”

  “Did ya ever love me, Gwendolyn?”

  Gwendolyn stared at Charles’ genuineness. For so many years he had been her savior, rescuing her from a pit of gloominess. Each day would get easier and easier to adjust; it was like she was living another life – a dream life. Neighbors were close by and friendly. Everyone knew everyone and when someone was rumored to be sick, Charles was the first of the neighbors to volunteer his hands to work in the fields. She loved that about him. He showered her with happiness and she had been nothing but grateful. He was a kind, gentle man and she hated hurting him. “No.”

  “But ya let me—”

  “Yes—I know, I do not regret that, not one little bit. I will always care for you Charles McMillen. You have brought nothing but joy and happiness into my life, you are a dear man and I consider you a dear friend, you’ve given me comfort when I needed comforting, humor when I needed to laugh…but I have always loved Mary’s father.”

  Charles shifted with anger and possessiveness. “Blasted noble, the next time I lay eyes on the mon, I will tear him limb from limb.”

  “No Charles, no one is going to tear anyone’s arms off.”

  “But Gwendolyn, the babe needs a fatha,” Charles conveyed, scratching his chest, “If he willna take responsibility, then I will. I always thought I’d be a good fatha.”

  “Yes, yes you will be…someday, Charles. You are such a good man; I do not deserve a friend like you.”

  Charles stared at his former fiancée. He recalled when he first laid eyes on her; she was like a gem in a pile of corn. Poised and exquisite, this was no farm girl. She hypnotized him with her confidence, her knowledge of the sea, and her quick wit. He welcomed her flirtatious moods and looked forward to the days when he could hold her in his arms throughout the night. But alas, it was not to happen, his future bleak and filled with solitude once more. Friendship was all she was offering. Closeness he would greet with open arms if she would keep her word.

  “If I canna have ya as me wife, Gwendolyn, then I will settle for yar kinship,” Charles let go disappointed, “Anythin’ ya need, ya can call on me.”

  “Thank you Charles.”

  He slowly walked over to a table and placed the flowers gently on top. He was just about to exit and caught the door deciding to test her pledge. “If ya feeling better tamorra’, will ya accompany me on a journey?”

  “Where you off to?”