by Liz Botts
We stepped into the bright sunlight of the clearing. I blinked rapidly as my eyesight adjusted after the dimness of the cabin. Lord Blessington hovered near my elbow, and I realized I was swaying. Perhaps he thought I might faint on him again, but I knew that was not going to happen. This was always the spot where Mama and I danced when I was small. She would hum the most beautiful tune and she would waltz me around the clearing. James often joined us in this fun, and even Father would participate on occasion.
“I… I do not know where the… it is,” I said, looking helplessly around the clearing. I abhorred feeling helpless. Mama and Father raised me to be quite self-sufficient. Any girl on the frontier had to know how to take care of herself and her family. Mama insisted upon it. Though now that I was essentially on my own, I wondered if I knew anything at all about taking care of myself.
Before I could continue along with my self-loathing thoughts, I was startled by Lord Blessington’s hand on my elbow. “I believe it is over here.” His voice was soft and compassion-filled. He took the bundle from my hands, and I allowed him to guide me across the clearing. At the moment I appreciated his help, as the tears stinging my eyes blurred my vision.
We had only gone a few steps when I caught sight of a patch of violets. Mama had loved the tiny pale purple flowers. “Please,” I said. “I want to pick these flowers for my mother.”
I sounded like such a young girl that I cringed inwardly. Mama would have wanted me to act like a lady, grown up and polished. She had been insistent these last few months that I focus on such things. I could almost hear Mama’s voice in my ear as I picked the flowers. She would tell me that now was the time I needed to begin my own life. She had prepared me the best that she could, and now I must grow up and take care of myself.
Clutching the small bouquet of violets in my hand, I rejoined Lord Blessington. He favored me with a small smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes rather charmingly. I looked away, embarrassed to be thinking of him in such a way. He had been nothing but a gentleman to me.
“Here we are,” he said softly a moment later.
Set before a wide, tall oak that had been Mama’s favorite summer spot to sit and sew lay the grave marked with a simple rough-hewn cross. Her name and the dates of her birth and death were etched into the wood. Beneath her name was a notation of the unborn babe, simply called an angel. I stared at the words, wondering who had buried her and who had created the cross. Such sentimentality did not strike me as Father’s doing, and he could not have done so as he was still infirm.
As if sensing my question, Lord Blessington said, “Your father directed me to dig the grave here. He also provided the information for the marker when I asked, though he seemed to find me ridiculous. I simply had to ensure that those who come after us would remember the courageous woman who fought here.”
The tears came then, coursing down my cheeks, obscuring everything from my vision. I tried my hardest to hide them at first, but my grief bubbled over, and I knew there would be no way to look like a delicate lady. I pressed my hands over my face, stifling the hardest of my sobs. Lord Blessington laid a hand on my shoulder. I knew instinctively that this gesture would be frowned upon in polite society, and yet here in the woods there was no one to take note and care, so why should I? Focusing on such a seemingly inane action allowed me to rein in my tears.
“I will just be a moment,” I said, my voice quiet and shaky with sadness.
Lord Blessington nodded and stepped back to give me space.
I laid the violets down and crumpled to my knees. “Oh, Mama. I do not know what to do. Father says I must return to England to live with Grandmother and Grandfather. He cannot go with me, of course, because he must continue to search for James. Please, Mama. Send me some sign that your spirit is still with me. I know that you would want me to be strong, and I am trying, but this is so hard.”
Tears fell harder again, as I collapsed into a pile. Nothing could have torn me away from this spot, but gradually I felt a calm come over me. The sobs subsided, leaving me spent, but not quite as grief-stricken as before. Perhaps that was Mama’s sign to me. She wrapped me in peace so that I could face the next adventure of my life.
I pushed myself into a sitting position, aware that I must be a mess from top to toe. At the thought of Lord Blessington seeing me in such a state, a heat crept up my neck as embarrassment stole over me. Such silliness, I scolded myself. The duke had already seen me in a much more disheveled condition, and yet he still seemed to enjoy my company. Shame filled me. What a thing to think about at the foot of my mother’s final resting place.
Thinking of Mama gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and turn to Lord Blessington. I smoothed the front of my skirt. The dress still felt odd under my hands, though over the past week I had grown accustomed to the heavier fabrics. After I felt reasonably sure that the leaves and sticks had been removed, I willed myself to walk forward.
“Are you ready, my lady?”
I forced myself to look up into Lord Blessington’s eyes, just for a moment. Those eyes with their seemingly unending depth of blue beckoned me, stirred things within me that made me feel much less like a girl, more like a woman. He blinked, lids fringed with thick dark lashes, and that was all it took to break the spell. Shocked at my own brazenness, I dropped my gaze.
“Thank you for waiting, my lord.” I dropped a small curtsy, unsure what the protocol was for a man who had taken a girl to her mother’s grave, much less one in the middle of the woods.
“It is the least I could do,” he said. Then he did something that made my knees tremble. He offered me his arm. I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. Father had walked with me this way, from time to time. Yet nothing compared to this experience.
Despite the ugly feelings of sadness that lingered in my heart, I felt the flutter of anticipation at the unknown that stretched before me. The journey to England would take at least two months, including our journey over land to the harbor where our ship was waiting.
Chapter Four
“Godspeed, daughter.” Father placed a hand squarely on my shoulder. Despite his stoic façade, I could see the worry in his eyes.
“I shall keep her safe,” Lord Blessington said.
His promise made me shiver with delight. My feelings toward this man confused me. I desperately wished I could ask Mama about them. The awakening of this new facet of my being thrilled and terrified me. Though I knew this accomplished man looked at me as a child, something deep within me hoped that I would be able to change his mind. We had an enormous amount of time that we would spend together. Rather than let him think of me as a burden, I was determined to show my capability to be self-sufficient.
Lord Blessington lifted me onto a horse. Almost instantly I felt unladylike as my skirt bunched around me. Mama had tried to teach me to ride delicately, but Father and James had insisted I learn to ride like them. I knew the journey would be much faster this way, and I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt what I did, but I suspected it had everything to do with the man accompanying me on this journey.
With a final wave Lord Blessington gave a yell, and we were off. I glanced over at Father, who stood where we had left him, leaning heavily on his crutch. My heart seized as I realized this might be the last moment that I would see him. Tears sprang to my eyes and a lump caught in my throat, making it hard to swallow. My desire to appear strong won out over my sudden panic, and I turned back in my saddle to face forward. Already I had fallen behind. Lord Blessington and the three soldiers accompanying us were several yards ahead.
I ran a hand over one of the saddlebags that contained the things I had taken from the cabin, along with a spare dress. My whole world had been shrunk down to the contents in that bag, but at the same time I had the peculiar sense that the world was just opening up before me. I dug my heels into the horse to spur it along. The gentle trot provided a fresh breeze against my face as I hurried to catch up with our traveling party. I certainly
did not feel safe alone. Who knew where the Americans could be hiding, waiting to ambush us?
The soldiers rode along at a good clip, slightly behind Lord Blessington, who naturally assumed the lead position. I fell in line and focused solely on the rhythm of the horse beneath me. The silence that surrounded us was broken only by the sounds of nature: birds chirping, squirrels chittering, water rushing. Glorious noises I had reveled in only a week ago, but which now brought me tension each time a twig snapped under some errant animal.
After several hours of riding, we came to a small building. From the looks of it no one resided there, but nonetheless it set my teeth on edge. This appeared to be the perfect spot for those treacherous rogues to hide out. Rather than fear, I surprised myself by feeling a quick flush of anger. How I would love to come face to face with the evil that had killed my mother, stolen my brother, injured my father, and torn our family apart.
“Hold up. Let’s rest here awhile. There’s a stream out back to water the horses.” Lord Blessington dismounted without waiting for anyone else’s reaction. I wanted to call out my objection, but I feared I might be perceived as a burden. I had promised Father that I could take care of myself. He in no way wanted me to cause anyone any trouble.
One of the young men came over to help me off my horse, which, despite my unease at the setting, I was intensely grateful for. Alone there would have been no way to get off the horse with a shred of dignity intact.
“Thank you…”
“Corporal Holden, Lady Felicity. ‘Tis my pleasure to help such a lovely lady.”
I felt the heat of a blush creep up my neck in response to his teasing smile. He reminded me of my brother. James had the same sort of cheeky look when he wanted to taunt me with folly. I liked Corporal Holden, with his charming smile and playful attitude.
“Thank you, Corporal Holden. You are too kind.” I felt unsteady as my feet found solid ground, and I swayed as if I were still on horseback.
I opened my mouth to say more, when a loud popping sound broke the still air. Corporal Holden cried out, then crumpled to the ground, a spot of crimson blooming on his white dress shirt. The commotion that followed swirled around me.
Strong arms grabbed me around the waist. I screamed.
I kicked.
I struggled.
Was this how Mama had felt?
The terror was unbelievable. I could taste panic on my tongue. Then a sharp crack to my head sent pain ricocheting through my body. Then everything went black.
When I came around, the light pouring through an open window burned into my eyes, making me squint. Waves of nausea rolled over me as I tried to sit up. A steady hand clamped down on my shoulder, preventing me from moving.
Panic raced through my veins. “Let me go. Please. I need to sit up.”
The hand released me, only to cup the back of my head. “Slowly, Lady Felicity. You hit your head quite hard. We must wait to see if it will affect you.”
Lord Blessington. Even with my eyes closed to block out the painful stabs of light, I knew his voice with its soothing cadence. I felt my body go limp as he guided me into a sitting position. The relief I felt was palpable.
Sitting up made the nausea worse, but I pulled from my deep reserves. One deep breath at a time. I waited until the swirling in my stomach abated. Keeping my eyes closed, I asked, “What happened.”
Lord Blessington sighed. He kept his hand resting at the base of my neck. I felt his weight shift, bringing him closer to me. “Some American militia surprised us as we neared our outpost. They killed Corporal Holden, but we managed to get you to safety before anything else could happen.”
The look of shock and horror in Corporal Holden’s eyes came unbidden. I shuddered and squeezed my eyes tighter. Sadly, nothing I could do would erase the image burned in my mind. I wrapped my arms around my knees and let my head sink down. So much grief, and for what? I knew little of the Americans. My life had centered around our family and the fort. Father had been wary of the colonies for years, but never for a concrete reason that I could see, though I had not paid much attention. Mama had taught me much about England, and I was glad to go there now. To escape this heathen place that no longer seemed like home.
“I knew.” My words came out as a whisper. I was not sure Lord Blessington heard me, as my lips touched my knees, but I felt him lean forward.
“Pardon? You knew? What did you know?” His voice came out equally as soft, but with more intensity. With my eyes shut, I felt like I could hear his words so much more clearly.
I forced myself to sit up straight and to open my eyes. Looking directly at him, I said, “When we got near here, I had the uncanny feeling that we would be attacked.”
Lord Blessington’s eyes widened. “How? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“My mind has been playing tricks on me… ever since the attack on my family. I see the militia everywhere I look. When I saw this shack, it seemed the perfect place for them to lie in wait.” I shook my head hard enough that my bonnet came loose. To avoid looking at Lord Blessington, I retied the strings slowly, meticulously. For some reason I felt as if I had let him down by not sharing my paranoia with him sooner. If I had…
Tears sprang to my eyes as I forced the thought away. The image of Corporal Holden crept back into my mind. That poor man had died while protecting me. What on earth was happening to the world we lived in? What had any of us done to provoke the wrath of the Americans?
With a sigh, Lord Blessington stood, dusting himself off. “We shall be at the harbor soon enough. Once we are at sea, you will be safer. We all will.”
I watched as he moved toward the door of the small outpost so he could speak to the remaining men. Their voices drifted over to me in a jumble of tenseness and urgency. I hugged myself tightly as I tried to block the horrors of the past few weeks from my mind. How had my life taken such a turn? The pit of despair that yawned, ever present in front of me, opened its cavernous jaws yet again. Thoughts of Mama, Father, and James swept over me. Tears leaked from my eyes. I let them roll down my cheeks and soak the sleeves of my gown, for I cared not an ounce for what the others thought of me now.
The moments of my grief stretched out in all directions, encompassing me, blocking out the world. My vision darkened to only a pinprick of light. Lord Blessington and the soldiers allowed me my privacy.
When I was finally spent I let myself be led back to my horse. The sounds of the woods that I had once found so soothing now made me jump and start with each tweet and crack.
Chapter Five
“This is Mrs. Saunders.” Lord Blessington offered a rare smile at the older woman. The corners of his mouth lifted upward, revealing the whitest teeth I had ever seen. I found them quite mesmerizing. “She has agreed to be your chaperone on this voyage.”
Mrs. Saunders smiled at me. “Well, now, my lady, I am pleased to meet you. We will get along well, I am sure.”
When she reached out to enfold me in a hug, I did not resist. It had been so long since I had been held, felt safe. Her plump frame held no resemblance to Mama’s but the affection was the same.
I followed her up the gangplank to the ship, clutching my small parcel of belongings. The ship seemed quite grand to me, just as Father had often described the British naval vessels, yet I found it hard to focus on any particular aspect save the wood of the deck as we walked along. Each board seemed to tell a story with the whorls and curls often interrupted by small knots that seemed like punctuation. The uneven coloring made me wonder where the wood had come from or if the different shades of brown and tan were the result of being waterlogged. Despite the fact that I had never been near the ocean, Father’s tales made me feel quite at home.
Mrs. Saunders chattered on about the weather and the relatives she would be staying with in London. I tried my hardest to be polite, but as the salty breeze swirled around me, my mind drifted. A glimmer caught my attention from the corner of my eye, and I raised my head to look out on the waves. T
he glint of the sun off the blue-gray water reminded me of something. As I dug through the muddled recesses of my mind, I uttered a small gasp as I realized it reminded me of Lord Blessington’s eyes when he smiled. An odd fluttering sensation tickled the inside of my stomach. I pressed a hand against my abdomen.
Mrs. Saunders must have seen the action because she clucked softly. “Are you feeling a bit sick? It takes some time to get your sea legs.”
I let her slip an arm around my waist so she could guide me toward a narrow set of doors in front of us. Better for her to think I felt ill than to admit to this confusing set of emotions which had suddenly flooded my being. Fortunately there was no time for me to ponder these thoughts as Mrs. Saunders and I stepped into a narrow corridor, backlit from the open doorway behind us. In the dim light I could make out three doors on the right and one on the left.
Stopping beside the first door, Mrs. Saunders opened it to reveal a narrow room with two hanging cots pressed against the bare walls. I presumed this was to be our quarters for the duration of the voyage, and a momentary flare of panic flooded my veins. The small space felt too reminiscent of the root cellar. How was I to survive a trip of this length when the memories that terrorized me, especially in the dark of the night, would be constantly hovering just out of reach at all times?
“Well, this will never do,” Mrs. Saunders said. “Come now, dearie.”
Obediently I followed her back out on the deck, where she told me to wait beside one of the deck rails. She bustled out of sight a moment later, and with my free arm I hugged the rail tightly. The rough-hewn wood of the deck’s wall scraped my exposed arm, but I barely flinched. All around me the ship’s crew bustled about, preparing for our departure. Men in white trousers and bare feet strode purposefully past me without really seeing me. Not that I could make eye contact with a strange man. A gesture such as that was forward and quite unladylike.
The thought, accompanied by hundreds of whisper-thin memories of Mama lecturing me about proper manners, caused me to smile. No matter what else happened in my life, no matter where I traveled or where I ended up, I wanted to make Mama proud of me. Over the past few weeks I had grown aware of a presence gently hovering near me almost all the time. I had not mentioned the feeling to anyone, lest they think me delusional. Still, I had to wonder if perhaps Mama lingered between the veil of the human world and the spirit world, unable to move on until she was certain I was safe. I found solace in the idea.
