The Merchant's Yield

by Lorri Dudley

  Hopeless tears plopped down onto the Bible’s pages. She blotted at them with a handkerchief Priscilla had thoughtfully stuffed up her sleeve. She’d never touched a Bible before. In the past, her Papa had cracked open the family Bible and read to them, but recently he’d fallen out of the habit. She riffled through a few of the pages, reading a few lines here and there, hoping to find something to lift her spirits and gather her strength. Her finger traced the lines of Isaiah 61:1-3, and she read the words.

  The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me…he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound…to give unto them beauty for ashes…that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

  Bind up the brokenhearted? Free captives? Beauty for ashes? Trees of righteousness? What did any of those things mean? She slammed the book shut and put it back on the shelf. She needed to know how to survive on a rugged island—and how to be a dutiful wife to someone who despised her.

  Shouts thundered above deck. Lottie moved to the window, and a tingle of dizziness swirled through her body down to her feet. The ship drifted with the current. People waved their scarves in farewell, and the end of the pier slid past her window. She raised her hand as if she could reach out and grab hold of the last wooden piling to keep them moored, but her fingers met the cold glass of the window pane. A bleakness settled over her as she watched the pier grow smaller in the distance.

  When England—the only home she’d ever known—faded out of sight, Lottie choked back a sob. Nathan’s words filled her head. Pain is unavoidable, but misery is a choice. She covered her ears as if she could block out the thought. But he happened to be right. There were two choices afforded her. One, she could cry, fall into a pit of despair, and hope death would come early. Or two, she could see this as an adventure and the beginning of another chapter of her life.

  Every miracle began with a problem. Did it not?

  Chapter 7

  The ship has set course, yet I feel adrift, uncertain whether to celebrate freedom or despair at the loss of everything known. Lord, help me to trust your plan.

  ~ Penned in Lottie’s prayer journal

  Nathan leaned against a flour sack and watched Captain Fielding smooth his beard. The ship’s cargo hold was the only private room in which he could speak openly about his disastrous marriage. Fielding rested an elbow on a crate filled with tea and scratched the bottom of his chin. “You’re telling me you were tricked into marriage by a stunning beauty? How wretched.”

  Nathan pursed his lips at the captain’s sarcastic undertone. “The last thing I need is the added worry of a wife.” People were counting on him. He had a crew to protect and a staff of people at home to provide for—so many who relied on him to put food in their stomachs. “I need to be out with my ships, developing merchant relations, increasing our profits, protecting my men from privateers. Not at home catering to a woman who’s never done a lick of hard work in her life.”

  Fielding snorted. “Indeed. How dreadful to have to stay at home with a woman who keeps yer bed warm at night.”

  “I had hoped my new wife would have some spirit in her, but everything after the night we met has led me to believe Lady Winthrop is as timid as a mouse. She nearly fainted during our wedding. She’ll probably fall into hysterics when she meets the rest of our crew. I can’t see to her comfort, nor protect her from all the possible mishaps on a ship.” Nathan ran a hand through the top of his hair. “Confound it. If she endures the voyage, she’ll never survive the hardships of the island. My mother was the strongest woman I ever knew, and even she succumbed to the fever.”

  “You might be hasty in making yer judgments. Maybe she’s more spirited than you think.”

  “She landed us in this unseemly mess by hiding from her mother. The pea goose was in such a dither she dropped a candle and caught her skirts on fire.”

  Captain Fielding chuckled and crossed his arms. “Didn’t you say your mother-in-law was a hardened tyrant?”

  He snorted. “She makes Napoleon seem like a puppy.”

  “Yer lady may have a gentler disposition, but the mother’s blood still runs through her veins. I’d be willing to bet yer woman is stronger than you think.”

  “Stop calling her my woman. This is not a love match.” He paced back and forth a few steps before rounding on the captain. “If what you say is true, then I have more reason to be concerned. I may have a devious trickster on my hands. I assumed it was all an unfortunate accident, but I still wonder.”

  “I’m certain it—”

  “If the mother’s same conniving blood flows through my wife’s veins, then I should be sleeping with one eye open.” He pointed a finger at Fielding’s chest. “Her mother is a charlatan. Lady Etheridge knows the truth about my situation. Why else would she have had the gall to bribe me?”

  Fielding drew back and blinked at him. “Bribe you?”

  “If I don’t consummate our marriage”—Nathan fought back a snarl—“she’ll not only release Lottie’s dowry, she’ll double it.” He crossed his arms. “I can only guess she plans to annul the marriage and keep her daughter hidden away as her own personal servant until the gossip dies down.”

  Fielding let out a low whistle. “That’s a hefty sum. You could recoup all yer losses from the last failed voyage and then some.” His brows rose. “Did you agree?”

  “Of course not. I have my pride.”

  “Yer pride is worth the price of a brand-new schooner?” He tossed back his coattails and rested his fisted hands on his hips. “If she’s like her mama, at least you know yer woman has a mind on her, albeit a shrewd one.”

  “Rightly so, but most unfortunate.”

  “The crew is not going to take well to your wife if they pick up on your ill feelings. They’re loyal to you.” Fielding’s eyes shadowed. “To a fault.”

  “Let them believe what they will. If she survives, which the chances are barely even half, then I’ll return home after a time to sire a brood of children. The rest of my time I can spend at sea. Once my boys are old enough, they can accompany me.”

  Captain Fielding shook his head. “You don’t want a sailor’s life. Besides, you’re needed on the plantation.”

  “Marcus has the estate under control.”

  “Marcus works better with direction,” he murmured under his breath.

  Nathan braced for a lecture.

  Fielding eyed him. “One way or another, yer going to have to come to terms with the woman yer bound by God to protect.” The captain folded his arms. “Depositin’ her among strangers and sailing off is not fulfilling yer vow.”

  “You’ve done it for thirteen years. I don’t see any fault in your marriage.”

  “I’m a lucky man for having an understanding wife, but I regret every leaving.”

  “Charlotte desires freedom.” He crossed his arms. “I’m merely letting her have it.”

  The captain blew air across his lips. “The way this all came about, the mother-in-law, yer shabby marriage. It makes me think that curse is real.”

  Nathan’s jaw tightened. The curse grated his skin like a wool sweater. If only he could pretend it wasn’t real. He’d worked too hard, and too many people counted on him, but how could he explain Skitter and Knuckles, and now the candle incident that forced him to the altar?

  The boat creaked and groaned as it crested a wave.

  Captain Fielding rubbed his chin. “Yer right. The island’s superstitious nature has gotten into my head.” He waved his hand in a circle, and the frill on his cuffs swayed. “But perhaps you need to give your marriage a chance. Help her adjust to the island. It could be a honeymoon of sorts. Enjoy yer time creating a brood of sons who’ll take over the family business. Me and Little Cap’ can handle the voyages.”

  Nathan strummed his fingers on his biceps. “It might be best for her to stay with your wife for a time.”

 
“You want your wife to stay at the inn?”

  A rush of nervous energy filled his chest. “Calico Manor isn’t in condition to house a woman of her station, not since the hurricane. Besides, the events that led up to our wedding were wretched. This will give me an opportunity to court her properly. Julia’s man, Paul, can see to their protection. Not to mention, Julia will be a good influence on her. She may help toughen up Charlotte.”

  “Aye.” The captain crossed his arms. “But are you certain? Not living under the same roof can create another nest of problems, unless yer thinking of takin’ Lady Etheridge’s deal?”

  “I’m not, but I’m willing to throw some coin your way for the hassle, and I’ll pay for all her expenses.”

  “Even still, I think ya should stay with yer wife. Marriages can be difficult enough to navigate.”

  “All the more reason to come at it over time and with a calculated route.”

  Lottie pulled a more sensible dark blue traveling dress out of her trunk, and Franny assisted her in dressing. It was a bit wrinkled, but in the dim light of the setting sun filtering through the cabin porthole, no one would notice. The floor shifted as the ship swayed, and Lottie stumbled into her maid.

  “Forgive me.”

  Franny pinched her lips not to smile, and she cast her gaze downward as if eye contact could cause sudden blindness.

  “You think my lack of coordination is funny?” She smiled at her maid, who couldn’t have been more than ten and six. “I would laugh too. I feel like a jug-bitten ostrich. All legs with the room spinning. It’s taking all my concentration to keep my stomach from turning inside out.”

  The girl chuckled, and a spirit of victory ran through Lottie’s chest. She’d make a friend yet. Lord knew she needed someone on her side during this voyage.

  “This is a big adventure into an unknown world,” Lottie said. “I admit, I’m a bit nervous.”

  Franny’s gaze flicked to Lottie’s for the briefest of moments.

  “Edith said you’re a good helper and to that, I now can attest. Although I miss Edith, I’m glad I have you with me.”

  Franny hid her smile under the fold of her collar.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Franny hurried to hook the last few buttons on Lottie’s dress. “There ya go, mum.”

  “Thank you, Franny.” She walked her to the door “Tomorrow morning, I’ll need help with my hair also.”

  “Yer hair is a fine color, mum. It would be my pleasure,” Franny said to the wide plank floorboards before opening the door.

  Nathan’s tall frame claimed the entire expanse of the doorway. Franny bobbed several hurried curtsies and squeezed around him on her way towards the galley.

  He leaned against the frame. His shirt front gleamed bright white beside his black suit and was as contrary as the man himself. He didn’t need any frills or unnecessary décor to make him appear aristocratic. Even his relaxed stance exuded confidence.

  If only she could own an ounce of his confidence.

  “I assume you’re finding the accommodations suitable?” He ducked to step under the low doorway.

  The large room felt cramped with his presence. He moved about the cabin before his eyes settled on her. His business-like demeanor raised Lottie’s guard. Was that a flicker of distrust in his eyes, as if she might make off with the silver? Or was it disdain? Lottie shrank back a half step, then stopped. She had cowered to her mother for eighteen years. Would she be setting the same precedent?

  “Yes, the captain is very generous.” The boat tilted and threw off Lottie’s equilibrium. She leaned away to compensate, but the boat shifted again, pitching her toward the wall. Her hand grasped the bell pull for balance. To cover her misstep, she said, “And if I need anything, I’m to ring the bell, and someone will tend to me.”

  A muscle in Nathan’s jaw tightened. “You may be accustomed to an assortment of servants and the finest of meals, but you’re no longer in London. If you have any complaints, you are to bring them to me. Understood?”

  “Quite.” She forced a stiff smile, but her inner child curled into a ball and rocked back and forth.

  “My crew is not at your beck and call. They are crucial in the running and maintenance of the ship to keep it afloat and protected from marauders. You might find them unconventional, but hospitable in their own way.” His gaze wandered over her form, then jerked back to her eyes. “They’re used to treating strangers like family. I expect you to do the same.”

  She started to respond, but he held up a hand. “No, I’ve seen how your family treats one another. Better for you to treat them as you would a dear friend, or better yet, an acquaintance.”

  The insult pierced her pride with a direct hit, but she refused to let him see her hurt. She grabbed the Bible and flipped it open again, but her tears blurred the page. “Is that all, Mr. Winthrop?”

  Her throat tightened. He needed to leave—go away so she could cry out her despair at the disastrous mess she’d made of her life and weep over the horrid beast she was doomed to call her husband.

  “No.” He examined the room. “Captain Fielding will be joining us for dinner. Charlie will be along shortly to make preparations. I expect you to act as the dutiful wife.” He slanted a brow. “That includes no childish fits of laughter.”

  Anger evaporated her tears, and her spine stiffened at the unprovoked attack. A true gentleman wouldn’t throw her strained reaction to their forced marriage back in her face. She’d expect that of her mother, but she’d not tolerate it from a stranger. “Captain Fielding is welcome at my table, but you, sir, with your cutting remarks and demeaning looks can partake elsewhere.”

  He pulled back as if surprised, but then his eyes narrowed into slits. “Your table?”

  She closed the Bible and held it against her chest like a shield.

  “This is my table, and the people who eat here are at my invitation. I will not abide disrespect from my wife.”

  She was fed up with being a doormat for others to wipe their feet on. This marriage needed to begin with proper expectations. “Are you threatening me? Do you plan to starve me into becoming your obedient servant?” She stepped forward and raised her chin. “Do what you will, but I won’t relent.”

  “Whoa, now. There will be no starving patrons upon my ship.” Captain Fielding sauntered into the room.

  Charlie followed, carrying a service tray stacked with dishes. The captain inclined his head, and Charlie began dressing the table with a setting for three. “At first I was hesitant to accept Nathan’s offer of joining newlyweds for supper on their wedding night, but I can see a mediator may be necessary.”

  Lottie gripped the sides of her chair to keep her hands from going for her husband’s throat. How dare he embarrass her in front of the captain?

  “Charlotte was merely remarking on your generous accommodations.” Nathan’s gaze leveled on her. His face had the look of cavalier nonchalance, but his eyes commanded her acquiescence.

  She wanted to close her eyes and block him out. Standing up for herself was what had trapped her in this travesty of a marriage, but if she didn’t fight back now, he would belittle her for the rest of her life. She raised her chin. “Actually, when you entered, Captain, I was commenting on Mr. Winthrop’s controlling nature, but I did express my appreciation for your hospitality earlier. Didn’t I, Charlie?”

  Charlie froze with a wooden plate halfway to the table. His gaze volleyed between Lottie and Nathan before turning to the captain. His shoulders visibly relaxed as if finding a haven. “Aye, Captain. She did.”

  Nathan’s eyes flashed as if he’d just accepted a challenge, but it had been him who’d thrown down the white glove with his verbal attack.

  “Well, it is my pleasure. Anything for such a beautiful lady.” Captain Fielding smiled and pulled out a chair for Lottie.

  After she sat, Nathan and the captain settled across the table from one another, and Charlie poured their glasses, ale for Nathan, and what the
captain proclaimed as his best Madeira for the rest. Lottie’s stomach protested against the acidic wine.

  Captain Fielding held up his chalice. “To the happy couple.”

  “Indeed.” A hint of sarcasm laced Nathan’s voice. He lifted his glass, and a confident smile spread across his features. “To wifely obedience.” He clinked Captain Fielding’s glass and sipped his watered ale. The captain followed suit with his glass.

  Must he try her patience? Lottie’s fingers clenched her glass, envisioning it to be his neck. The dizzying lilt of the ship only added to her irritation. She lifted her glass, not to be outdone. “To an emboldened spirit and freedom.”

  Captain Fielding choked on his wine. Nathan’s smile turned into a grim line. Lottie sipped from her glass. Touché.

  Cook’s dinner of roasted lamb shank with root vegetables showed the woman’s merit, and discredited Charlie’s complaints. The succulent lamb fell off the bone, but after such a grueling day, Lottie’s stomach protested. She struggled to suppress her queasiness as Nathan and Captain Fielding discussed business, especially the challenges due to England warring with France and America.

  On several occasions, the captain asked her questions about herself, but she kept her answers brief. Her stomach churned the small portion of food she’d eaten. She had one sibling, an older brother. She enjoyed the season. She did feel the weather was unusually warm.

  Mostly, she listened to the two of them banter, allowing her further insight into their mysterious personas. The mere sight of the food on her plate threatened to gag her, so she averted her eyes to study her husband.

  Nathan’s regal nose was perfectly straight. Her brother Gerald’s nose had been crooked ever since he broke it in a mock jousting tournament, and then again when he was in his cups and fell off his horse into the hitching post. Anthony Middleton also had an aquiline nose, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe Nathan’s nose appeared overly straight because she’d adapted to hooked noses.