by Sarah Lark
When Elias finally left, he gave Nora a polite kiss on the cheek. She had to be careful not to recoil — Simon was the only man who had ever been so close to her. But Elias’ lips were dry, and casually grazed her skin. Nora once again had the irritating feeling that he was only kissing a doll. The contact awoke nothing inside her — she felt no excitement, but also no fear.
Nora was indifferent about the preparations for the wedding. It almost seemed as if everyone around her was much more excited and enthusiastic than the bride herself. Nora’s acquaintances and the servants were happy, since Nora let them make decisions as they pleased. She made no objections to the seamstress’s designs for a wedding dress laden with lace, ribbons, and ruffles, in which she would hardly be able to move under the sashes, stiff collar, and crinoline. Lady Margaret MacDougal organized the ball and banquet with excitement and exuberance — Nora had the feeling that a simple menu wouldn’t do for the list of courses, but instead a scroll from ancient Rome would likely be needed. A small orchestra would play for the dances. The dances were rehearsed and a dancing master was engaged.
In all of this, Nora strangely felt like she was losing herself more and more, but also that she was on the right path. It seemed to her that Simon had been calling her for years, and that she was finally able to answer his call.
Two days before the wedding, she visited the grave of her lover once more. She speechlessly and helplessly stood before the elaborate stone slab that her father had commissioned. As always, she felt nothing. His soul was not anchored to this place. If she wanted to be near his spirit, she had to look for him elsewhere. Nora felt hope rather than sorrow as she left the cemetery.
On the same day, she took the velvet ribbon with Simon’s signet ring from her neck. She could no longer wear it, as Elias would ask questions. So, she put her precious keepsake in a velvet bag and hid it in her sewing kit. Elias would never find it there, but Nora could reach for it whenever she pleased. She would also take Simon’s books with her to Jamaica. They wouldn’t stand out among her own; the servants couldn’t read, and her father had long forgotten the legacy of Simon Greenborough.
CHAPTER 4
The wedding turned out quite festive. Nora’s connection with the much older planter was unexpectedly well received. The gossip was limited, and all of the guests with rank and title were present. Lady Margaret held court as the stand-in for the bride’s mother; Thomas Reed accepted the congratulations and compliments on behalf of his beautiful daughter.
Nora scurried around through the guests like a marionette — she had no other choice. With normal movements, her tiara of ribbons and gemstones would slip out of place; her crinoline and train would have overturned the furniture. Elias only led her in a small Minuet at the opening of the dance, and then she could sit still and let everything rush past. By the end, her face muscles were cramped from smiling, her shoulders hurt from the strain of holding them upright despite the weighty headdress, and the food lay heavy in her stomach, which was constricted by the corset.
Elias looked very dignified. Corresponding with her dress, he had also been decked out in the French style; with knee breeches and buckled shoes, and his jacket made of cream-colored brocade. Nora felt that they looked like a royal couple. Or maybe like the king and his mistress? The thought of it brought out an honest smile that even Elias noticed.
“What are you so amused about, Nora?” he inquired, and thereby indicated that he was probably just as bored as his young wife.
Nora decided to share the thought with him.
“I think that I look like Madame de Pompadour,” she whispered to him. “Do I have to run around in Jamaica like this, too?”
Elias shook his head. “No, surely not! Although the ladies do, of course, tailor fashions that are in vogue in the mother country. But such heavy fabrics like your wedding dress, and so many skirts and trains — it’s just too hot for that on the islands. Of course, you needn’t move about so much, there are servants, but still …”
“I actually like very much to be active,” Nora noted, but then a guest spoke to her and she had to nod and smile again.
The young woman was delighted when she could finally escape the company — and Elias avoided the request of the boisterous guests to escort the pair to the bridal chamber by instead leading Nora to a carriage. For the period of his stay in London, he had been renting a townhouse that belonged to another Jamaican planter. They would spend their wedding night and last few days before their journey there.
Peppers, the old coachman, held open the door for Nora. It was the same dark carriage with Reed’s initials that she had previously stopped for Simon. Nora swallowed as she thought of the kisses that they had exchanged inside.
“My heartfelt congratulations, Mrs. Fortnam!” Peppers bowed.
Nora heard her new name for the first time, and the feeling that it wasn’t real crept upon her again. The person here wasn’t her, this wasn’t happening to the young woman who sometimes playfully scrawled “Nora, Lady of Greenborough” on a scrap of paper. In her mind, she felt for Simon’s ring on her neck. She missed it. She had worn it so long that it had almost become a part of her body. But now she had to smile at Elias, who was climbing into the carriage after her, and not without pressing a tip into Peppers’s hand — he knew what was proper. Nora wondered if Peppers also thought about Simon.
Elias didn’t sit beside Nora — that wouldn’t have been possible because of her crinoline — but instead across from her. He looked at her, pleased.
“You are a truly beautiful bride,” he flattered her again. “But you’ll need help getting out of all your finery. Your lady’s maid will already be awaiting you in our chambers — your father has indicated that you and she are very close. He said you might like to take her with you to Jamaica. But, naturally, that isn’t possible.”
Nora nodded disinterestedly. She was thinking about the imminent wedding night, not about who would be helping her to dress and undress. Elias smiled. “I’m glad that you can accept it as such. And I would very much like to give you every happiness. But a white housemaid would only lead to discord with the Negroes. Often, these little house kittens are quite afraid of the black men. You will, of course, receive a personal slave — you can decide for yourself if you would like to train one of our girls, or if we buy a woman who is already trained.”
Nora was startled out of her thoughts. “I’ll … what?” she asked, puzzled.
At that moment, Peppers stopped in the driveway of the manor house. Not quite as luxurious as the Reeds’, but also decorated with columns and marble statues in front of the entrance.
“Come, Nora!” Elias said genially, as Peppers opened the door and helped her out.
The front entry was lit, and the staff had obviously expected them. Nora mechanically accepted the congratulations of the foreign maids, butlers, and house servants, and took a deep breath when Elias had led her to the first floor. Nellie was waiting for her in a room that was elaborately decorated with carpets and silk tapestries.
“I will call upon you soon,” Elias said, and kissed his wife’s hand.
Nora took a seat on a dressing chair. Nellie opened her dress, removed her headdress, and began to loosen her hair after she had helped her mistress out of the heavy cloak.
“It was such a beautiful wedding!” the girl said excitedly. “And now? Are … are you excited?”
Nora shrugged. Mostly, she was just tired. But of course, prepared for pain. What she had heard about the wedding night up until then was contradictory. Songs and poems glorified love and, modeled after the customs of the French court, people in Nora’s circles were also not prudes. Eileen and other young women told of the nights with their lovers as they giggled, and Nora herself had loved Simon’s kisses and his touch. But some young brides also grew silent when there was talk of affections, and Lady Margaret had even whispered to Nora as she left that she ought to be quite brave that night. The housekeeper had even suppressed a few tears.
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“I think, Nellie, you should make me properly lovely now, and then we will let the matter take care of itself,” she told her lady’s maid.
Nellie probably found her a bit strange, but that couldn’t be helped. The girl was indignantly silent while she combed her mistress’s hair and helped her into a lacy nightgown.
“The bed is also prepared,” she said stiffly.
Nora nodded and slid in between the silk sheets. At least nothing about this state bed with its lace-adorned drapery was at all reminiscent of the narrow cot in Simon’s attic. She calmly awaited Elias’s arrival and smiled again as he entered. Eventually, her muscles would tighten …
Elias Fortnam lay beside Nora without saying a word. He was also wearing a nightshirt, and a few candles added to the dim light. She didn’t see much, but soon felt him heavily on top of her. Elias handled her rather delicately. Nora’s husband kissed his young wife slowly and a bit expectantly. He let his lips wander over her breasts, and his hands over her shoulders, her back, and her buttocks. All this was not unpleasant. Nora gave into it without a word and wondered if she was required to do something. In order to have something to do, she then wrapped her arms around his neck as he lay on top of her and entered her. It hurt, but it was bearable, and it was over quickly. Elias moved in her a bit, then forgot to be mindful, and let his full weight sink into her petite body, which frightened Nora for a moment. But then he straightened back up, kissed her on the forehead, and lay down beside her. A moment later, he was asleep.
Nora waited a little longer before she dared move around. Then she curled up beside him, and tried to find her way back to her island. It burned between her legs and she seemed to bleed a little, but she would worry about that the next morning. After the long day, she needed a beautiful dream.
She was running across a golden beach to the ocean, feeling the hot sand under her feat, and then the cool, azure water. The sea of her dreams washed the sweat, and the memory of that day, from her skin.
The remaining days before the journey to Jamaica seemed to fly by. Nora was busy with the shopping and farewell visits. Elias encouraged her to bring as many everyday necessities as possible, especially luxury goods. He bought paintings and statues for his house, and didn’t consult Nora in their selection, but rather her father. For him, it was not about beauty, as such, or even his own personal taste or that of his wife, but about investment and presentation.
Nora did not quite know what to take along. Lady Wentworth eventually advised her to bring light clothing fabrics, silk undergarments, and everything else that belonged to her trousseau.
“My dear, is your trousseau complete? Surely not with such a quickly planned wedding. Shall I just come along?”
Nora was relieved to accept, and in the next few days, Lady Wentworth accompanied her to the cloth merchants and silversmiths; to the porcelain factories, and glass workshops. In the end, Nora’s trousseau filled three chests, and there wasn’t a single item among them that she could have used in that attic with Simon. In any case, the visit to the goldsmith gave Nora an idea.
Two days before her departure, she visited the craftsman alone. She gently placed Simon’s signet ring on his worktable.
“Can you reshape this?” she asked softly and sadly. “Maybe into … into a brooch or a pendant?”
The goldsmith took a look at the ring.
“A valuable piece — certainly antique and pure gold. I can alter this into any piece of jewelry, lady. Though I don’t really understand why. It is surely an heirloom.”
Nora nodded. “Yes. But I … I don’t need it to seal letters. It’s more … well, a memento, and as a ring it is much too loose—”
“I could just make it tighter,” the goldsmith offered.
Nora shook her head. “No. No it should … it shouldn’t be a ring any longer, it shouldn’t look as if … it should look rather as if it had perhaps belonged to an aunt.”
The craftsman looked at Nora searchingly. “Weren’t you here a few days ago purchasing silver for your trousseau?” he inquired. Nora was grateful that his smile had nothing sleazy about it. “With a somewhat older lady?”
Nora chewed on her lip. “Yes, my … aunt.”
The man laughed. “Then let’s hope that your aunt goes by the name … hmm … Geraldine? Or Genevieve? Or should the G on the ring also be changed?”
Nora blushed. “No. No, please don’t change the G. Please change as little as possible. Just make it so that I can wear it without … I would like to openly wear it without anyone asking any questions.”
She straightened up. What did it matter if the man suspected anything? In two days, she was traveling to the colonies — she would never enter this shop ever again.
But the goldsmith turned out to be discreet, nonetheless. In his expression shone neither sensationalism nor wanton disapproval, as he now took the ring and turned it back and forth.
“Would you like to wait?” he asked, kindly.
Nora nodded, relieved. She could not bear to get too far away from her keepsake of Simon. Actually, it also did not take very long and Nora was delighted with the result. The craftsman had finely reshaped the gold of the ring so that it formed a sort of cameo, which she could wear on a velvet ribbon around her neck.
Nora smiled at the craftsman. “Aunt Geraldine would have been delighted,” she said and pulled out her wallet, ready to pay the goldsmith dearly.
The man bowed. “I’m happy that I could honor her memory.”
Nora hid the pendant in her bag, and later, back in her sewing kit. It should rest there until they were at sea, far from the inquiring eyes of her father, who would have undoubtedly recognized the ring. Elias had surely never seen it — despite Nora’s protests, Nellie used to remove it when she groomed her mistress for soirees and feasts. If Nora now laced the cameo onto the black ribbon, it would be a piece of jewelry to him.
Elias Fortnam had kept his word and booked plenty of cargo space on a schooner that would sail directly to Jamaica. Nora’s mare, Aurora, was below the deck, along with two other horses that Elias had purchased. If one was to go to the bother of transporting animals, then it should be worth it. However, the compact ship primarily served the transport of wares, and Elias and Nora could not count on much comfort. There were only two other passengers on board, a young reverend, who was to take over a parish in Kingston, and his wife. Nora was stunned when the first officer of the ship showed them the cabin that the two couples were supposed to share. The room was just large enough for two people to stand inside. On the side, there were four bunks in pairs, one over another.
“And we are to all sleep here, the four of us?” Nora asked, in disbelief.
The reverend laughed. “Good woman, I have heard of groups of up to eight people being accommodated in such chambers. When the church of old sent missionaries to Hawaii …”
Nora did not care under what circumstances her compatriots had proselytized to Polynesians. She only complained to Elias, but he also just shrugged.
“My dear, I can understand if, in these circumstances, you’d like to take a few weeks off from our … intimate meetings. I, for one, do not attach any worth to you lying in the society of our young friends, and we can also move into any one of these bunks. However, I can’t offer you our own chambers or more spacious beds, as these are already on the boat as a luxury.”
Nora understood what he meant when she looked after the horses, and could also glance into the crew’s quarters. Here, she saw hammocks for the first time — whereupon, she decided that her next visit to her imaginary island would be spent dreaming on a blanket on the warm sand. The men slept one above another in tight, vermin-infested quarters. Her own cabin had been kept scrupulously clean by the missionary’s wife — until she fell victim to seasickness after leaving the channel and sailing out onto the Atlantic. From then on, Nora attended to order and cleanliness — if only because she had no desire to get the fleas that the Reverend caught in swarms when he cared — o
r at least feigned to — for the sick seamen. In reality, he confined his contributions for the crew to Bible readings, and he wasn’t even particularly eager to stand by his wife when she once again grew violently ill.
“This cannot really be so, I haven’t eaten a thing in days,” the young woman whined, when Nora finally cared for her. Nora washed her up and, on the advice of the captain, gave her rum as “medicine.”
Reverend Stevens only endeavored to care for his wife at night — Nora hardly found an hour’s rest, as he groaned and moaned, trying to make a child with his Ruth. It seemed not to bother Elias, who snored in the bunk above his young wife, something that on its own could have been enough to rob Nora of sleep.
Elias Fortnam got along quite well with the captain, the mate, and the first officer. The men drank until late in the night, after Nora and the indignant Stevens had long since retired. Sometimes, Nora envied her husband these distractions. For the first time, she also wanted to numb herself with gin, laudanum, or whatever she could get her hands on — or whatever it was that the reverend inconspicuously blended into his tea.
Aside from that, however, she enjoyed the journey. She didn’t get seasick, other than the vague queaziness she felt on the first very stormy days, which quickly disappeared when Elias instructed her that she should by no means stay in bed. He advised her to go on deck and look to the horizon, which she did. She loved to be outdoors and feel the wind; see the waves, and watch the sailors at work. She was especially fascinated by their breakneck climbing maneuvers on the tree masts among the voluminous sails.
The men soon were comfortable enough with her to proudly explain the ship’s weaponry to the attentive, young lady. With a slight shudder, Nora looked at the cannons they kept onboard. Elias had paid careful attention to the nine-pounder before booking their passage. How well-prepared the sailors were with their defenses was important to him, since there was still pirate activity in the Caribbean and, although there was no current war between England and Spain, there were still occasional skirmishes at sea.
