Tide of Fortune

by Jane Jackson

  ‘You could ask Broad for the moon and he’d try to get it for you,’ Nick said dryly. He stood back for her to precede him out of the cabin.

  In the passage she sucked in a deep breath that tasted cool and wonderfully fresh. She hadn’t realised how thick, tainted, and cloying the air in the cabin had become. Would she ever get the stench of blood out of her nostrils? She hesitated. ‘I need a clean handkerchief, to use as a – to feed the baby.’

  ‘In your trunk? I’ll fetch it. You go and sit down.’

  Too tired to protest, she went into the saloon and slid into the seat nearest the door just as Broad came out of the galley.

  ‘I thought I heard –’ He glanced at the baby. ‘All right, is it? Poor little mite.’ Sighing, he shook his head. ‘How’s Miss Vyvyan? Had some time of it, she did.’

  Kerenza swallowed. ‘Sh-she didn’t – It was too –’ Her voice broke and she bent over the baby. For as long as she could remember, her life had been shaped by Dulcie’s selfishness. Living at her grandmother’s, where she was loved and valued, had been a revelation. Then she had met Nick. After the terrible misunderstanding that had parted them and almost destroyed her, the voyage had forced them once more into each other’s company. Slowly, tentatively, they had both reached out across the gulf of hurt and anger, recognising qualities in each other they would never have discovered had it not been for the hardships and crises forced upon them by events. But now once again Dulcie’s choices, Dulcie’s actions, were shaping her life.

  ‘Dear life, I’m some sorry, miss.’ The steward’s voice echoed his shock. ‘What’s going to happen to the little ’un?’

  She heard Nick’s approaching footsteps. Once she spoke the words out loud it would be real. There would be no going back. She swallowed again, lifted her chin. She had no choice. ‘I shall raise him in my sister’s place.’

  ‘Broad,’ Nick said from the doorway behind her, ‘Miss Vyvyan needs half a cup of goat’s milk topped up with boiling water for the baby.’

  ‘Right you are, sir.’ As the steward disappeared, Nick dropped the freshly laundered square of cambric on the table, pulled out the chair and sat facing her.

  ‘Is that really what you want?’ he asked quietly. ‘I don’t mean the bloody goat’s milk. I’m talking about –’ He nodded toward the swaddled bundle nestled against her breast.

  Kerenza looked down at the baby, who was just a blur: not daring to blink in case falling tears betrayed her. Anguish closed her throat and she had to clear it before she could speak. She couldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t what she wanted. It was what she had to do. His implied admiration and respect touched her deeply. But what she longed for, craved, was his love. And he had not even hinted at such a possibility. Certainly he would not want her now. So she must let him to walk away with a clear conscience. It would be her farewell gift. She forced herself to glance up.

  ‘I gave Dulcie my promise.’ But she couldn’t hold his gaze, and bent her head once more over the baby.

  There was a pause before he spoke. ‘I see.’

  Broad returned with the milk and water and set it down in the angle between the fiddle rails, where the tilt of the ship held it steady.

  Taking the cambric square, Kerenza folded it into a cone, dipped the point in the cup and tested the temperature on the inside of her wrist. Then she dripped the liquid into the baby’s mouth, an involuntary smile tilting her trembling lips at the sucking sounds he made.

  Nick stood up, tucked the chair beneath the table, and moved away to speak quietly to the steward. As Broad returned to the galley, he hesitated beside her.

  ‘I will tell your father about – what’s happened.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered without raising her head.

  ‘When you’ve finished, Broad will bring you some hot food. You may not feel like eating, but you must try. For the child’s sake.’

  Recoiling inwardly from the anger that edged his tone, Kerenza focused her whole attention on feeding the baby, who was far too absorbed in suckling to notice the occasional teardrop falling onto his downy cheek.

  Half an hour later, the cup was almost empty. Holding the baby against her shoulder, Kerenza gently rubbed and patted his back. His forehead was warm and she could feel his quick, light breaths against her neck.

  ‘All done, is he?’ Broad asked from the doorway. As she nodded, he disappeared, returning a few moments later with a steaming bowl of lamb stew and a spoon. ‘Here you are, miss. Get that down. Do you good, it will.’

  Kerenza gazed at the food. She felt more queasy than hungry. But that was probably because it was more than eight hours since her last meal. Her stomach gurgled and Broad pulled out the chair, then held out his arms.

  ‘Give him here, miss. I’ll hold him for you. ’Tis all right, I know what I’m doing.’ He grinned. ‘Had two strapping boys of my own, I did. Both gone now, God rest ’em. One was took with the croup when he was no more’n a toddler. T’other one, Eddie, was lost when the Mary-Jane went down with all hands. Nineteen, he was. Broke his mother’s heart, it did. She wasn’t the same after that. Two years later she was gone too.’

  ‘Oh Mr Broad, I’m so sorry.’ Kerenza was appalled. She’d had no idea.

  ‘Well, ’twas a long time ago, miss. But you don’t forget. C’mon, give him here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She transferred the baby and Broad sat down.

  ‘Right, now –’ He indicated the bowl with a nod. ‘Don’t let it go cold.’

  You don’t forget. Kerenza looked at the stew, and recalled in vivid detail Zohra’s house and the first meal she had shared with Nick, strange, delicious food they had eaten with their fingers. She would never do that again. But nothing and no one could take away her memories. Those were hers for as long as she lived.

  She picked up the spoon. The first mouthful was hard to swallow, but the second seemed to trigger her hunger. By the time she had eaten half of what was in the bowl she felt far less jangled, though suddenly very tired. That wasn’t really surprising considering all that had happened since leaving Zohra’s that morning.

  Putting down the spoon she sat back. ‘Thank you, Mr Broad. That was very tasty.’

  ‘Glad you enjoyed it, miss. Feel all the better for it, you will.’

  Hearing footsteps on the companionway, she pushed herself to her feet, surprised at the effort it took. ‘I think I’ll go to my cabin.’

  ‘Good idea, miss. You go on ahead, I’ll bring the babby.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She swayed, and grabbed the door surround to steady herself. There was a strange buzzing in her ears, like a swarm of bees. Her legs were tingling and the floor felt soft, as if she were walking on cushions. Ahead of her, a tall figure filled the passage. The darkness that had been hovering at the edge of her vision closed in. Nick. She started to reach out, heard a warning shout, and tipped forward into oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The blackness lightened, but she hadn’t the strength to open her eyes. Panic stirred. But a distant voice, low-pitched and familiar, murmured reassurance and the brief anxiety released its grip.

  An arm slid under her shoulders, supporting her head. A cup was pressed gently against her lips and she tasted cool, honey-sweetened liquid. It coated her dry throat, eased her thirst, and she kept on swallowing. Then the arm withdrew, she sank into the pillow, and drifted away once more into welcoming darkness.

  The next time she floated to the surface her eyes opened easily and she saw pale light above the gap in the door. Turning onto her back, she stretched, feeling more rested than she had for weeks. Yet the fact that it was still daylight meant she could not have slept for very long. The meal had obviously been just what she needed. In fact, she was still surprisingly hungry. The baby.

  Throwing back the blanket, she stood up and peered into the top bunk. Neatly folded, her apple-green muslin lay toward the foot of the bunk. She snatched it up. It smelled of soap and fresh air. Dulcie had been sick on it. The stain h
ad gone. The gown was clean, if creased.

  Where was the baby? Even as panic fizzed along her veins, common sense reasoned that someone else would be looking after him while she slept. He was probably with Broad, or Toy, or maybe even her father. Her father. She clung to the wooden support of the upper bunk. She must go to her father.

  Her skin tightened in a shiver and, glancing down, she realised she was clad only in her shift. She couldn’t remember undressing. She couldn’t even remember coming to her cabin. She rubbed her face. Her head felt full of clouds.

  She stumbled across to the nightstand. The water in the jug was lukewarm. Who had brought that in? A wash refreshed her but did nothing to allay her confusion. Opening her trunk, she pulled out a clean shift and stockings, then put on the green muslin. After brushing and coiling her hair, she buttoned her short wool jacket. Then she opened the cabin door.

  As she hesitated, she saw Toy emerge from the captain’s day cabin. Closing the door behind him, he hurried toward her. He was smiling. She sensed he intended to reassure, yet she felt suddenly nervous.

  ‘Feeling better are you, miss?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Much better.’

  ‘Mr Penrose’ll be glad to hear that. In the day cabin, he is. Your father’s with him. I ’spect you’d like to see them first. Then you’ll be ready for a cup of something and a bite to eat.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Oh, and will you bring some milk for the baby? Mr Broad will tell you –’

  ‘Don’t you worry ’bout that, miss. ’Tis all took care of.’ Toy hurried past her toward the saloon and the galley.

  Kerenza’s heartbeat quickened as she approached the day cabin. She could hear Nick speaking, but he had pitched his voice too low for her to hear the actual words.

  Would her father hold her responsible for Dulcie’s death? She had done her best, done what she believed was the right thing, but … When had that ever been enough? How had he reacted to the baby? Of course he would have been shocked, and grief-stricken. But would his anger at Dulcie be tempered by her death, and by the realisation that this baby boy was his grandson? The only grandchild he would ever have.

  Even though Nick was now beyond her reach, he was the only man she had ever – would ever – love. To marry anyone else, have children – she couldn’t. Drawing a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

  Nick opened it. He scanned her face, frowning slightly, his expression unreadable. Beneath his scrutiny she felt her face grow hot. As she dropped her gaze, he stood back. ‘Come in.’

  Her father sat on the far bench seat facing her, his forearms resting on the table, linked fingers tightly clasped. Deep grooves bracketed his nose and mouth. The flesh beneath his red-rimmed eyes was bagged and puffy. He had aged a great deal in the past two weeks.

  Behind her, Kerenza heard the door close, then felt Nick’s palm warm beneath her elbow as he urged her gently forward. His touch was both comfort and torture.

  ‘Papa.’ She tried to smile. He nodded.

  ‘Kerenza.’

  She glanced from her father to Nick. ‘Where –?’ She swallowed. ‘Where’s the baby?’

  ‘He’s safe and well,’ Nick replied. ‘Please, sit down.’

  She sat on the bench seat opposite her father. As Nick gestured for her to move further in, and eased down beside her, effectively blocking her exit, her heart started to thump heavily. What was going on?

  ‘It must be time for his feed. I really ought to –’

  ‘Kerenza,’ Nick said gently, and her first reaction was astonishment that he should address her with such familiarity in front of her father. Her surprise deepened with the realisation that her father, usually so strict in such matters, did not even appear to have noticed. ‘The baby is no longer on board. He was taken ashore at Gibraltar. So –’ he swallowed audibly ‘– so was Dulcie.’

  Kerenza stared at him in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand. They can’t have – You’re not making any sense. We haven’t reached Gibraltar yet.’

  As her father sat back with a slow sigh, Nick rested his own clasped hands on the table. ‘How long do you think you’ve slept?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged, confused and defensive. ‘But it can’t have been long because it’s still light.’

  ‘Kerenza.’ The tenderness in his voice unsettled her even more. He shouldn’t be talking to her like this. It was too painful. Besides, her father would get angry and blame her, and it wasn’t her fault.

  ‘Kerenza? Are you listening? You have been asleep for two days. We left Gibraltar 24 hours ago.’

  Two days? ‘No, that’s not possible. I don’t believe –’ He wouldn’t lie. She heard herself swallow. ‘But I couldn’t have – not for that long. Not unless –’ As she realised, she turned to Nick, appalled. Shock reduced her voice to a whisper. ‘You drugged me.’

  ‘Don’t blame him.’ William Vyvyan intervened before Nick could respond. ‘It was my idea. Best for everyone.’ He stopped, his mouth trembling, and gestured to Nick. ‘You tell her. But I want it clearly understood the decision was mine.’

  ‘Acting on your father’s instructions, as soon as we reached Gibraltar Maggot took the baby to Lady Russell. Within an hour she had found a wet-nurse for him: the sister of one of her household staff. The woman is in her late 20s and married to a fisherman. She’s strong and healthy, an experienced mother with three other children, the youngest four months old. Lady Russell has promised to arrange for the baby’s adoption. He will go to a local family where he will be safe and loved, and no one will ever know his background. Your father thought it was the wisest, kindest thing to do.’ After a moment’s hesitation he added, ‘Not just for the baby, for everyone concerned.’

  Kerenza sat very straight, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. His slight emphasis on the word “everyone” drew her glance sideways. She didn’t know what to think or how she felt. Who was “everyone”? It might have been best for her father. He would be spared further shame and none of their acquaintance would ever learn of Dulcie’s love-child. But what about her?

  She had been the person most closely involved. She had delivered the baby. She had promised Dulcie she would raise him, then watched her sister die. It had cost her dearly to sacrifice her own dreams to the needs of a helpless baby who had no one else to care for him.

  She had gone to sleep believing her future planned. Not the future she had hoped for, but one in which she would have done her very best to give the baby a good start in life. Now everything had changed. Decisions had been made, carried out without her knowledge. And the baby was already living with someone else.

  As all this raced through her head her emotions seesawed between loss and shame-tinged relief, but she said nothing. She dared not, for she might betray herself. Perhaps for the baby’s sake it was indeed all for the best. But where did it leave her? She felt disorientated and totally bereft.

  Her father cleared his throat, his gaze darting to Nick then back to her. ‘Kerenza, while she was alive, Dulcie made your life a misery. I should have stopped it. To my shame I did nothing. Now she’s dead, I grieve for her and for your mother. But what Dulcie asked of you was grossly unfair. I could not allow her to continue blighting your life.’

  Kerenza reached impulsively across the table. ‘Papa –’

  ‘No, my dear.’ He pushed himself wearily to his feet. ‘For once in my life I have done the right thing. Though I hope one day to be worthy of your forgiveness, you must allow me to suffer a little longer. I deserve it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go to my cabin. I’m very tired.’

  Nick stood up. But as Kerenza started to follow, he laid one hand on her shoulder, his voice quiet but intense. ‘Please stay. There are things that – I need to – Please?’

  Kerenza looked quickly at her father.

  ‘I forfeited any right to your obedience a long time ago, Kerenza,’ William Vyvyan said. ‘But for what it’s worth, my advice is that you listen to what Mr Penrose has to say. He and I ha
ve talked a great deal this past two days. Though I think it more truthful to say that he talked and I listened. Perhaps if I had done so sooner – The point is I have found him to be a man of uncommon good sense.’

  Stunned, Kerenza sank back onto the padded seat. Her father listened? How had Nick achieved such a thing? What had he found to talk about with her father? Dulcie, obviously. Clearly their conversations had made a deep impression. She had never known her father admit to being wrong. As for asking her forgiveness, she was still finding it hard to believe he had actually done so. But with her mother and sister dead, there were only the two of them now.

  As the door closed, Kerenza gazed down at her hands. She could feel her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. Its rhythm drowned the sounds of the ship.

  * * *

  After shutting the door on William’s departing figure, Nick leant against it, looking across the cabin at Kerenza. Her back was straight and stiff with tension. But her bent head reminded him of a flower too heavy for its stem. Between her coiled hair and the black velvet collar of her jacket her pale neck looked so vulnerable. Yet she had shown more courage, more stamina, than he would have imagined possible.

  He recalled William Vyvyan’s shock at being told a few necessary home truths about his attitudes and behaviour toward his younger daughter.

  At first, the older man had reacted with fury at being addressed in such a manner. But as one after another the accusations hit home, facts he could not deny or excuse, appalled realisation silenced his anger and bluster.

  When he had finally accepted responsibility for his own part in his younger daughter’s unhappiness, Nick had changed the subject, making it clear that while he would appreciate William’s approval, he did not consider it necessary. Nor would he allow anything to stand in his way. William’s response had been shamed silence and the tentative offer of his hand. Nick had clasped it.