Horsman, Jennifer

by Crimson Rapture

  Christina stole a furtive look up to confront Lady Everett's stern face, then Lady Knolls's condescending nod. She dared not reply and she swallowed, feeling her cheeks flush.

  "Well, my word," the lady continued. "Have you no wits, child? You will surely catch a sun rash, my dear, to say nothing of ruining your complexion. Run along now and fetch a bonnet, then join us for tea. You spend far too much time alone, my dear, and if I say so, it's most unnatural for a young lady of your age and circumstances."

  Justin swung down to his small cot, waiting to hear Christina politely, though nonetheless curtly, tell the lady to mind her own concerns. He was intimately familiar with the woman's tone of condescension and he loathed it perhaps more than all other banalities common to his class.

  But he heard only silence.

  A pained expression crossed Christina's features, she nodded, and then quickly left. Once beneath the deck she leaned against the wall, trying to stop the hot sting of tears. How she hated herself at those moments! Hated her childish inability to make proper addresses, indeed any address! Hated the way her body flushed, then froze, the way her tongue became as immobile as an inert block of wood!

  Why couldn't she be like others, like Elsie or Hanna? She shared quarters with Elsie and Hanna, along with two other young ladies, Marianna and Katie. At first she had been amazed, but then envious of their easy manners, the gay and carefree way they had of just being. How she envied the buxom young Hanna, her plump and smiling face, a head crowned with untamed red curls and Elsie, Hanna's opposite in appearance—small and dark and cute, the way they always had fun with their mistresses' shenangians, making others laugh and chatting so easily. How she wanted to be like them! To be like she was with Justin...

  Justin had been a bit taken aback by Christina's wordless departure, but was surprised even more by the ladies' comments that followed.

  "Such a shy young lady," Lady Everett mused. "God knows how the unfortunate creature will survive in the New World, having to fend for herself in a family she knows nothing about—people she's never even met before."

  "Undoubtedly of the lowest society," Lady Knolls bothered to add.

  "Undoubtedly. It's a shame her late father failed to arrange a marriage for her before he departed— Hanna!" she nearly shrieked in the same breath. "Do keep the parasol over my person!"

  "Yes, ma am."

  "The captain has assured me," she resumed quickly, "that most all of the young men on board have had an interest in Miss Marks—one is forced to see she'd be quite a lovely thing if she'd do something with that hair—but he says her social awkwardness turns each man away."

  "That is a shame," Lady Knolls smiled cruelly, "for if the chit is suited to any one thing, it's bearing some man a string of brats."

  "Hmmm." Lady Everett seemed to agree. "Well, I daresay, one can't blame the young men. Why, I can hardly get a word from her myself except when she reads out loud, and my! Her terror whenever anyone tries to address her."

  Hanna was unable to stand another word. "Aye, Miss Marks be a shy creature for sure but she is lovely and you know, my ladies," she felt suddenly bold, "Elsie and myself, we share quarters with 'er and 'tis true, she 'ardly ever says a word, but she's very thoughtful and sweet like. Just think of all she does for everyone! A real angel of mercy, she is and, why, we've taken quite a fancy to 'er, we 'ave."

  "Exactly what one might expect," Lady Knolls commented dryly, her meaning implied.

  "Oh, me lady, you're being unkind now." Elsie too felt compelled to scold. "Miss Marks be a lady for sure, she just 'asn't any airs is all—"

  "Elsie." Lady Everett's shrill voice rose. "I do hope your impertinence is due to this tiresome journey. You're quite forgetting your manners..."

  The ladies' voices drifted off as they resumed their stroll. Somewhat confused, Justin had never known this side of Christina, a side that never manifested when with him. He knew her as a most gentle young lady, intelligent and sweet, incapable of harboring a harsh sentiment toward anyone or thing, but shy? Socially awkward, unable to stand up to anyone? Nor had he imagined others found Christina pretty. She had said she was plain and so he had always thought of her as homely, probably as homely as they come...

  Christina returned that night and, as always, she brought Justin food. Tonight a roll, a hard egg, a potato, and a small container of stew. He received only a daily bowl of mush and he often thought he'd starve if it were not for Christina's supplements. Tonight, however, before she had even taken her seat on the overturned bucket, he began questioning her.

  "Christina, why didn't you speak up to that woman today?"

  She swallowed hard, whispered, "What do you mean?"

  "Well, sweetheart, pardon the expression, but that lady needed a swift kick in the ass. I didn't like the tone she used with you, the condescension she implied and I especially didn't like the way you ran off so quickly to do her bidding."

  "Oh... well..."

  "Surely you found her offensive, ordering you about like a child?"

  "No... well, yes. Yes I do sometimes. Though I'm told by Hanna she doesn't really mean anything by it."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I... I have difficulty speaking to others," she whispered still.

  "You don't seem to have any difficulty speaking to me."

  "No I don't but I'm not like this with other people. I don't know why, but well, with you it's just so easy for me. Maybe because we've never seen each other before, but there's something about you—the way you are—it's like I know you're not judging me unkindly." She struggled to say the next words, "I've never had a friend like you before."

  And then it began to dawn on him how special he was to her, and after a thoughtful pause, he replied honestly, "I've known literally hundreds of women and, Christina, you're by far one of the brightest and certainly the most pleasant company. And I know you're capable of making friends and passing social pleasantries. So what seems to be the trouble?"

  "I... I don't really know," she managed, always affected to the core by his smallest compliment. She squeezed her handkerchief, and then suddenly rushed forward with words. "Oh Justin, I've tried to be like others so many times! How I envy others like Elsie and Hanna their easy manners, idle chatter and all. My father used to think the characteristic admirable in a girl, I mean being quiet and all, but as I grow older even he began to see there was something wrong with me."

  "I don't understand," he said hesitantly, for needless to say the problem was alien to his experience. "Is it that you don't know what to say to people?"

  "That's the odd thing. I always know what I should or might say to others, but somehow—as soon as I see them—the words choke inside, and I become all flustered, embarrassed, my heart races so, and oh, Justin, I'm really just... so inept and... clumsy."

  Justin hated her self-deprecation and he felt a sudden urge to draw her into his arms for comfort while gently scolding her for speaking of herself like that. He was just about to suggest something when her boot kicked the wall and hard.

  Colonel Carrington and one of his mates, Stephens, had stepped on deck to enjoy the only slightly cooler, still night air and a bottle of whiskey. They strolled leisurely toward her spot and Christina, wearing black and hidden in dark shadows, pressed herself against the wall in hopes they would pass without noticing her.

  Carrington abruptly spotted her hidden against the wall. "Why, Miss Marks." He bowed politely. "A pleasant good evening to you."

  Christina cast a quick glance up to the two gazes appraising her through the darkness and she nodded slightly. Without a word, she rose and disappeared quickly down the deck.

  Carrington shook his head in frustration, then pushed his hands through his thick dark curls. "That one would drive a sober man to drink—haven't got a damn word from that pretty mouth yet."

  "Aye, you're not the only one striking out. I don't know anyone who's gotten anywhere with her. And from the looks of what's beneath that skirt," Step
hens chuckled, "it's a darn shame too."

  "She is most definitely ripe for the picking. One of the loveliest little creatures I think I've ever seen— even in those appalling rags of hers."

  "If she wasn't such a scared mouse, I'd be the first one up those skirts."

  "The second," Carrington assured him.

  Justin had certainly heard baser comments in his lifetime but because Christina was the subject, he felt his muscles tense and his blood rise to a quick boil. Given any freedom, he would not hesitate to make any man regret the mere thought of her in that way. And this surprised him, for he had never felt especially protective toward any woman. He supposed the feeling was due as much to Christina's femininity and gentleness as it was to the nature of their relationship.

  * * * * *

  "What was that?" Justin asked Christina the next night, hearing a faint grumbling sound.

  Christina swallowed her panic. "I didn't hear anything. Justin, I was wondering—"

  "Be still a moment," he ordered, suddenly suspicious and wanting his suspicions confirmed. To Christina's horror the sound came again and he exploded, "Damn you, Christina! You've been lying to me about this food, haven't you? This isn't food left over from the others!"

  "Justin, no... I—"

  "You've been giving me your rations! Starving yourself for me—"

  "Oh, but Justin, I don't need very much, honestly—"

  "I assure you, young lady," he began harshly, furious at himself, "I am perfectly capable of fending for myself. I don't need some slip of a girl to—"

  "Please don't be angry at me! I just can't bear it—" And demonstrating the truth of this, she ran quickly away.

  * * * * *

  Captain Forester stormed into his cabin and, before anyone could rush in with another catastrophe, he shut and locked his door. He went immediately to the large oak desk and withdrew a silver flask of rum. He pressed it to his lips, swallowed several times without tasting, and then felt the hot burst of fire in his stomach.

  He was afraid. Everyone lived in fear, a tightening knot of dread in their stomach. Fights broke out hourly among the crew. He had already confined nine men to their quarters for insubordination. Left exhausted, worn and listless from the meager rations and the severe heat, passengers remained in their quarters, moaning their fate. Stretching food and water to minimum, they had a mere handful of days left.

  A mere handful of days. What to do? What to do?

  Owing to Christina's nature, she wasn't suffering as much as the others, or if she was no one ever heard about it. She busied herself helping others from dawn to midnight, pulling and transporting bucket after bucket of cool salt water for the brief comfort of a bath, serving the meager rations personally to those who could no longer rise from bed. She became the right arm of the overburdened, exhausted ship surgeon, Dr. Michaels. She surprised everyone, for no one had suspected that such a delicate young lady possessed such a strong constitution. She even managed to overcome her temerity to promise everyone the wind would rise any time now to feed the sails before a real tragedy could happen.

  Even she became alarmed the next morning. A vicious fight broke out in her small quarters. She barely understood the initial outburst of words between Elsie and Hanna and Marianna and Katie— something about a chamber pot—but suddenly the women were all screaming at each other, cursing like any group of hardened sailors and then, then Marianna flung the full pot in Elsie's face and Hanna flung herself on Marianna. Like four crazed cats—all claws and teeth—arms and legs flew wildly, hair pulled, bodies knocked against the wall. Stunned, horrified, Christina had never seen anything like it in her life, and finally managed to mobilize her dazed wits to run for help.

  She wanted to speak with Justin, always finding comfort with him. But the day rushed forward with one crisis after another. Dr. Michaels himself fell faint in the early afternoon, leaving Christina with the burden of a growing number of patients. She never stopped.

  Late in the afternoon, Carrington opted for the short-term relief from both tension and thirst in a bottle of potent rum. He knew well that ultimately, even within a few hours, the rum would make his thirst a raging monster, especially considering the meager substance he, like everyone else, was forced to subsist on. He didn't care. Nor did it matter that the captain had banned all spirits, or that he had stolen the rum from a mate. He was a desperate man, one who had just faced the unbearable reality that he was doomed.

  And he was so young! His career, his great ambitions, indeed his whole life had stretched before him. All was lost, stolen by a dark unpleasant death lying in wait around the corner.

  For the better part of an hour the rum fueled an impotent rage as he lay on his bunk staring blankly at the four walls, in futile search of some hope, any hope. There was none, though his senses heightened insidiously until it seemed as though death hovered directly overhead. Shadows darkened and the air grew thick and stifling.

  He had to escape...

  The sun had just disappeared on the horizon and the air was a breath cooler when Christina finally managed to steal a few precious moments to talk with Justin. She felt disturbed, a vague restlessness put her on the edge of her seat, despite the hectic and exhausting day. And Justin could hear the strain in her voice as she related the events.

  "I've never been more scared in my life." She related the fight that had occurred in her cabin. Like most men, he found physical fights among females at best amusing, at worst disgusting. "And goodness but Marianna needed Dr. Michaels's services and it took Elsie nearly an hour to calm poor Hanna down and my, but it was awful, just awful. I don't know what's happening to everyone. Everyone's behaving so cruelly, so... uncivilized."

  Justin smiled, for it was exactly what he would expect Christina to think in such a situation.

  "Even the ladies are behaving poorly. Do you know what Lady Everett said to Hanna yesterday?"

  "No, what?" he asked, not really concerned until he heard it.

  "She asked Hanna to give up her water ration to her, practically making it an order! Can you imagine— Oh no—" she stopped abruptly, looking up to see Mr. Carrington standing just feet away.

  "Well, well," Carrington said with a slight slur as he stepped toward her. "It seems the lovely Miss Marks does favor at least one man with her company."

  Something was terrible wrong and Christina recognized the trouble. Smiling wryly at having caught her in the act, the man had a crazed look. His hair and uniform were disheveled, perspiration lined his brow, and he seemed at once like a madman. She never hesitated or bothered to reply. She immediately rose to leave but as she stood up, Carrington grabbed her in a painful grasp and jerked her hard around.

  "Please... let me go!"

  "Scream, Christina!" Justin yelled.

  A scream rose in her throat, but Carrington clamped his hand hard over her mouth. He shoved her against the wall, knocking the wind from her, and then stopping her struggle by pressing his body into her.

  "You bastard! Take your hands off her!"

  She squirmed desperately and terrified, she could not catch her breath. She thought for a blessed moment she would faint.

  Carrington loosened his hold on her mouth and she gulped in breath. He looked down at the hole, amused by Justin's outrage, his helplessness to do anything about it. "Ah, have no fear, Mister High and Mighty Phillips," he laughed, returning his gaze to Christina's terrified eyes. "I will give you the pleasure of listening as I have this treat."

  Carrington's mistake was in thinking Justin was helpless, for anyone who knew him knew that he was never but never helpless. Justin reached his arm through the hole, managed to find Carrington's booted foot and, like the jaws of a shark, he grabbed the man's ankle and pulled with frightening strength. Caught off guard, Carrington was thrown off balance and fell with a loud thud against the deck.

  "Run, sweetheart!" Justin shouted and then, with one merciless strong hand still on Carrington's ankle, he pulled the leg, twisted it throu
gh the hole, and pressed down until he heard a sickening crack of bone.

  Christina swung open the door of her quarters and burst inside. The door slammed shut. She collapsed to the floor and pulled her knees up into a tight ball, trying first to quiet the pounding of her heart and then to make sense of the furious noises on deck.

  Hanna lifted herself onto her elbows and looked curiously at Christina. "Christy! Wat's 'appened to you?"

  Christina's eyes lifted to the lower bunk and instantly she flew to Hanna's side. "Oh Hanna—" The story gushed out in a rush of whispered words, all of it—her friendship with Justin, the horrid Mister Carrington's attack, and Justin's rescue.

  Hanna's soft brown eyes widened in stages. Christina and Mr. Justin Phillips! She had heard, oh just the most wickedly delicious stories of Mister Justin Phillips and it had been a great thrill just knowing Elsie and she were voyaging on the very ship that carried the man to Australia. But to discover that shy Christina had been talking with him the whole trip long—so that's what she was always doing on deck! —was about the most exciting, juicy bit of news.

  Hanna kicked Elsie's bunk, waking Elsie from a deep sleep. The whole story was quickly repeated. Elsie, who shared Hanna's exact sentiments, looked down at Christina first with incredulity and then respect.

  "Why Christina! You and Mister Justin Phillips! Oh goodness, I kin 'ardly believe it!" She clamped her hands together. "Ere we be doomed for sure and you've been 'aving an affair with the very devil 'imself! W'at's 'e like," she asked breathlessly. "Wat's 'e really like?"

  Confusion lifted through Christina's distress. They had completely missed the point. "You don't understand! Justin hurt Mister Carrington! He'll be in trouble with the captain! I—" A furious banging sounded on deck interrupting her. There was shouting, running and orders. "What's happening?" Christina cried.

  "I'll go find out," Hanna said, climbing down.

  "Oh would you?"

  "Sure I will," she whispered, grabbing only a flimsy shawl to put over her nightdress and tiptoeing through the door.