“It was just a silly dream.”
“No, ma’am,” said Anna, reverting back to the proper form of address. She helped her mistress to her feet and guided her to the bed. “Dreams are there to tell us the future. All we have to do is believe in them.”
Chapter 4
A Long Farewell
On the Way to Portsmouth, England, November 1813
Amelia stared out of the carriage window. She felt like a criminal or some person who was condemned to a life of purgatory. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She had met the duke, and as her mother had said, his son had not been present. He had been sent to Canada to represent his family’s interests there. And that was where he still was – Thank God.
The duke was nothing like his arrogant son. In a way, if he were younger, Amelia might have considered becoming his betrothed. However, his son was an entirely different matter altogether. He oozed entitlement. To Amelia, this was one of the most undesirable qualities in a man. She was the daughter of a lesser peer, and consequently, she should be honored to be considered for such an exalted position as the future Duchess of Brandon. But she wasn’t.
At first, she had still harbored hope. Anna had kept her going with the promise that her dream would come true. Amelia had tried her best to believe her – yet, no matter which way she put her head around the matter, she could not think of a way out of her predicament.
For a time, she had thought that news would arrive from the British possession across the Atlantic that Airey had found another woman. But no such luck. He never wrote to her like other men would when they were to be married. The duke’s son knew that she was his, so no effort was necessary on his part. Not that Amelia would have been interested. But she still thought that was the way things should be done.
The past months had gone by so quickly and she still was his betrothed. The deal had been sealed that fateful afternoon at Brandon House in London. There was no turning back. Fate was remorseless in its machinations. All she could do was succumb to it.
Amelia let her gaze rest on the racing English countryside beyond the carriage window. It was a dull and cloudy day. Angry in its passivity as the greyness attempted to swallow up everything. The leaves had already fallen, leaving their bounty for the earth to devour. The nakedness of the branches somehow emulated the nakedness she felt in her heart and soul.
The world sort of burst upon her view. It was England, Amelia’s home and the place she loved most in the world. Yet, as the days, weeks and months had gone by, she started to realize that maybe there was another place where she might feel just as much at home. Would it be Canada? It was where her father was sending her, to visit her sister and, of course, to be close to her betrothed. No, it was not possible. No place was like home.
Suddenly, Amelia felt a sliver of worry envelop her innards. It was as if invisible hands were squeezing her there in an attempt to snuff her out. She was homesick before she had even left. Her breathing deepened, quickened in imitation of her heart rate – I don’t want to marry this man. I despise him. I know it even before I truly have come to know him. Amelia pressed her face against the glass of the window that hazed over when her warm breath assaulted it.
Let me catch this rapturous remembrance before it vanishes! It is like the passing lights of autumn that gleam for a moment on a hill and then leaves into darkness. Amelia started to count the days and hours that would withhold her from this fairyland that was called England.
She was condemned to forego the delights of a world, which her imagination painted in the gayest and most alluring colors, and whose hues were, perhaps, not the less captivating because they were only ideal — such was the state, to which she was destined. Again, her resolution was invigorated; her father’s unkindness subdued tenderness, and this roused indignation.
“Amelia, aren’t you excited to see Adelaide?” asked her father, referring to her sister who lived in British America. “Amelia, did you hear me?”
“What was that, Father. I was just dreaming, that’s all.”
“About the charming young Airey, I suppose.” Her father chuckled. “Young love; isn’t it wonderful?” he mused out loud.
Amelia thought she was going to be sick. How could her father be so callous? They were never close like father and daughter should be, but that didn’t mean he could dump her on the first eligible nobleman’s son just because he wanted to elevate his social standing.
“I do not love him,” hissed Amelia.
Her father arched his eyebrows. Next to him, her mother snapped her head in her direction. “You are sometimes the most self-centered person I know. Your father and I have put a lot of thought into this engagement. The least you could do is show a little gratitude.”
“Gratitude, Mother. I do not love the man,” Amelia spat. “And it is you who is self-centered – not I.” she returned her gaze to the passing landscape.
Her mother took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. “It’ll come in time. I didn’t love your father at first.” She turned to him and stroked his hand. “In time, we learned to love one another…didn’t we Tweenie?”
“Yes, my dear, we did,” he said, smiling back at her.
“But Templeton French is evil. I could see it in his eyes. I could never learn to love such a man,” said Amelia still looking out of the window. How she wished she could be sitting with Anna in the baggage coach.
“Would you prefer a fat old man to that young and beautifully turned out gentleman? In my view Airey is absolutely gorgeous,” said her mother.
“I would like neither, thank you very much. I want to choose whom I marry,” said Amelia, briefly looking back into the inside of the carriage.
Both of her parents laughed. “That’s not how it works, Dearest. We marry for position and status and to maintain that status quo. We cannot dilute the haves with the have-nots – it just wouldn’t be fitting.” Her mother arranged her clothing as if to make her point.
“What on earth would a duke’s son want with a lowly ship owner’s daughter anyway? If I am not mistaken his father is the seventh in line to the title. You, Father, started as a stevedore and you worked your way up.” Amelia sneered. “This is a classic example of a peasant marrying into nobility.”
Her mother nearly fainted. She took a quick succession of breaths, making the situation worse. Her father shot his daughter a hard look as he tried to calm his wife. “Now, look what you’ve done. Your mother is unwell thanks to you.”
Amelia smiled. She had not felt this good in weeks. It was about time somebody told her parents, who had grown in self-implied importance since the accolade, what their heritage was.
Besides, none of it made any sense to her. Even if the duke was the seventh in line, at some point, there must’ve been a first in line. Maybe he might have been a lord or something, but along the way, the Templeton French family was once just that, the Templeton French family and nothing more. What was all of the fuss about peerage anyway? Amelia never had been one for the system.
“You are going to Canada to visit your sister, and when Lord Templeton French comes calling, you will comport yourself as it befits the daughter of a noble house. Your sister, Adelaide, has agreed to do the chaperoning with her husband. Is that clear?” said Sir Thomas.
Amelia huffed. “And you don’t worry that I might be attacked by the Americans. If you haven’t forgotten, there is a war going on between this country and that of the United States of America…it would be safer if I remained here until things calmed down.”
“Poppycock! The British Navy has the Atlantic Ocean in her pocket. The yanks don’t stand a chance,” said her father condescendingly.
“I beg to differ. American privateers scourge the sea. They have already captured countless British trading vessels,” said Amelia. “I read that in the newspapers the other day.
Her father seemed surprised that his daughter would even deign to read the newspapers. However, he regained his composure quickly. �
�Then, you have no need to worry because you shall be on board a frigate of the Royal Navy.” He inflated his chest importantly. “The Duke of Brandon arranged it personally.”
Amelia was about to jump out of the moving carriage, but the thought of Anna’s dream stopped her. She pleated her brow. Weren’t they going on a voyage by sea? Was that not where they would meet their men. This is ridiculous, she thought. She looked up when she heard her father chuckling to find him stroking her mother’s cheek affectionately.
“What’s so amusing, Father?” she asked, not really wanting to.
“Oh, it’s not that it is amusing. It is sweet…the Duke of Brandon said that he wouldn’t ever place his future daughter-in-law in harm’s way, hence the frigate at your disposal, Amelia. What an honor.”
This was going nowhere. Amelia would just have to resign herself to her impending fate and pray for the best. Maybe Anna was right after all, and this was the beginning of a fabulous adventure.
Chapter 5
Black Joe
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, December 1813
“Well, ‘tis our twentieth day at sea, Anna,” said Amelia, gazing over the infinite twinkling expanse of the ocean before her.
The sky was blue and there was not a cloud in sight. The captain of the vessel had said this was very rare at this time of year. Usually, storms would ravage the ocean into a frenzy of angry waves. But that had not been the case. For the duration of the entire voyage, there had been calm seas and favorable winds, propelling Amelia closer to her fate at a far greater speed than was normal. It was as if God had already made up his mind – she was to be the next Duchess of Brandon.
To her great surprise, she had come to enjoy sea travel. Unlike poor Anna, she had not suffered from seasickness. Her lady’s maid had been confined to her bunk for days on end since leaving England. Only when land was a distant memory, had she slowly become accustomed to life on board ship.
Presently, Anna enjoyed it as much as her mistress did. There had been ample time for them to talk, play cards and blush incessantly because of the sailors’ lewd remarks that were hurled at them on a daily basis. Anna enjoyed it a lot more than her mistress did who hardly received any propositions because of her station. Anna no longer felt like a servant, but more like a companion or even a friend to Amelia maybe.
“And, Anna, is this where your dream comes to fruition?” asked Amelia with a smirk on her face.
“It could be. There are plenty of fine men on board the HMS Capricorn.” Anna batted an eyelid at one of her most ardent admirers – Cory Bennett, an able seaman, was the one to whom she directed her attention.
“Oh, do stop it, Anna. One might think you’ve been locked up in a nunnery for your entire life,” chided Amelia.
“I have. Working for your parents is just the same. I haven’t come close to a man other than the servants in your house.” She turned away from the sailor. “This is paradise on earth. So, many strong men who all appreciate me.”
Amelia giggled. “You know just as well as I do what these men appreciate…and it’s not holding hands while going for a stroll in the park.”
“Who’d want to do that anyway?” Anna shrugged.
Amelia burst out laughing. “You are incorrigible, Anna.”
Her lady’s maid became serious. “What about Captain Henry Wimple? He thinks yer the diamond of the first water, that’s for sure.”
“He is handsome.”
Amelia hazarded a brief glimpse of where he stood on the bridge. She had to admit that he looked impressive in his blue frock coat with gold-laced buttons and white trousers with gold lacing. He had a kind face and an even kinder manner when it came to his crew. This was a rarity because Royal Navy captains were either benevolent despots or vicious tyrants.
However, he still was strict and meticulous. A fact that was evident from the cleanliness of the main and lower decks. Amelia often wondered why so many people described naval life as the same as a floating jail sentence. On board the Capricorn, the men seemed happy.
She had asked the captain about this one evening, and he had explained that in the navy, men received ample food, grog and a purpose in life. He had mentioned that this stood in direct contrast to life as a poor man in England where everything lacked. Amelia had smiled when he had said, “Once the sea becomes your mistress, there is no other woman who can outshine her.”
“Aye, then it’s Henry for ye and Cory for me.” Anna grinned, alluding to her chosen men for the both of them. Her Scottish accent had become far more pronounced since leaving England. The sea had given her free spirit and the thirst for more.
Amelia giggled again. “Anna, I don’t think it’s as easy as all that. And besides, Captain Wimple is married to the sea.” She moved closer to Anna in case someone might hear her. “Do you know what we spoke of last night during dinner with the other senior officers?”
“I ave no idea, Amelia.” This was another development. When no one was around or close by, Amelia insisted Anna address her with her given name.
“I now know the ins and outs of the Royal Navy better than anyone. There are currently over six hundred and sixty ships with fourteen thousand cannons and over one hundred thousand men in the navy. It’s the largest fleet in the world.” She pointed up to the mizzen top. “Those men up there are referred to as able seaman because they are the only ones allowed up that one-hundred-foot mast. They constitute less than twenty percent of the crew. The rest being marines and landlubbers as the sailors refer to them.”
“Well, that sounds like a most romantic evening.”
Amelia chuckled. “Not really. The ship we are on is a frigate, also called a 38-gun ship, but she actually has 50 guns.”
“Why would they call it a 38-gun ship then?” asked Anna, confused.
“I have no clue.”
The two women laughed. “What else did the captain say?” asked Anna who was veritably intrigued. She wanted to be able to impress Cory later when they had the chance for a chat.
“Well, the strangest thing is that contrary to what we’ve been told, some women are allowed on board ship. And I don’t just mean passengers like us, but women amongst the crew. In some cases, they sneak aboard and behave like men. Or in others, they are commissioned to act as assistant cooks or as laundry maids.”
“This is something. There’s hope for me yet,” said Anna, sneaking another look at Cory who by now was busy scrubbing the deck further down the length of the vessel.
Amelia’s face adopted a more serious mien. “This can’t be it, Anna. I mean you did say in your dream that we wouldn’t reach our final port of call. We are only a few days out, a week at the most…and then…I am within that man’s reach.”
Anna contemplated for a heartbeat. “Have faith, Amelia. Love always finds ways to bring those people together that belong. It is the way of the universe.”
“I still don’t see how love can work its magic thousands of leagues from land. We are still very much at sea.”
“AHOY, SHIP TO STARBOARD!”
Upon hearing the lookout, both Anna and Amelia leaned over the bulwark and turned their heads to the right as far as possible in the direction of the ship’s bow. They couldn’t see a thing. Only the waves as they slapped against the bow and the side of the ship as she gradually picked up speed.
“CAN YOU MAKE OUT HER COLORS?” yelled the third lieutenant from the bridge to the men aloft in the masts.
“She must be English. Our fleet has the entire American coast cordoned off. The war is confined to the land,” said Amelia with confidence.
“SHE’S AMERICAN, SIR,” yelled the man from up top, contradicting her words.
Amelia felt a shiver slide down her spine. Anna just looked at the activity on board the HMS Capricorn with concerned eyes.
“BRING HER TO PORTSIDE,” ordered the captain. Caruthers, wait for my command to beat to quarters – let’s see what she’s going to do first,” he said somewhat more quietly, addressing his fi
rst lieutenant who stood next to him.
Amelia and Anna froze on the spot. This was it. They were going to see action at sea. The notion was both exciting and dreadful. Not so much so for Amelia whose knowledge about naval life was limited to what the captain had told her.
Anna had received a far more brutal instruction, which included anecdotes from a veteran able seaman who had partaken in the Battle of Trafalgar – the famous naval clash between the French and Spanish allies against the British fleet in 1805; the British victory had been Lord Nelson’s finest hour and his elevation into the annals of history. However, the battle had also cost him his life. The great admiral perished on board of his flagship, HMS Victory.
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