by Lorri Dudley
He closed his eyes and fumbled for the door. “I’m sorry, darling. So sorry,” he whispered.
Franny ran past him into the room and knelt by her mistress’s side. She burst into tears at the sight.
Nathan turned and fled.
Chapter 23
Our signal shall be the raising of the French flag.
~ From Captain Fielding to his contact on Grand Terre
He was a coward.
Nathan’s heart twisted until he could barely breathe. Lottie had paid for his selfishness.
A spray of salt splashed over the bow of the Katherine and misted his face, but Nathan continued to stare out into the swirling ocean water.
He should have been there for her. He should have held her hand until she breathed her last breath. He’d owed her that. She’d come here because of him, and she died here because of him. He hadn’t even had the decency to stay by her side.
Death wasn’t pretty. He’d heard it said people pass in peace, but he’d witnessed Katherine struggle for her last breath as her lungs filled with blood. There had been no peace in it.
“You look like you’re contemplating a swim.” Fielding interrupted his thoughts as he sauntered closer. “I wouldn’t recommend it in these rough seas.”
Nathan’s fingers tightened on the rail. Death by sea would be too good for him. It wasn’t slow or painful enough. He wouldn’t burn with fever for days, nor vomit and cough up blood. A few minutes of struggling for air while he sank to the bottom of the ocean would be too easy.
He’d hoped sailing would take his mind off Lottie, but with each day, his guilt corroded his soul, and he grew frustrated with himself and his actions. Now he only wanted to get back to St. Kitts.
She’d be buried by then.
A fresh stab of pain sliced his heart. God, please have Franny and Julia present for her funeral. Please don’t let her be buried alone.
“We’re making good time. Should arrive in Galveston in a couple days.”
Nathan couldn’t trust his voice so he merely grunted.
“Listen.” The captain lowered his gaze. “I know you think the curse has struck again, but what does a slave woman know? Her tribe may believe in her black magic, but we’re Englishmen. We know better.”
“I was born an islander.”
“By golly, you’re right, but English blood runs in your veins.” He clapped Nathan on the back and sauntered off.
Movement caught Nathan’s eye. Cobble was checking the rigging near the foremast. He peeked up and met Nathan’s gaze. The weather-beaten man’s face sagged, and he swiped his tricorn hat off his head.
“I’m awfully sorry about yer wife. She was a bonny lass with a sweet spirit. Reminded me of my own missus. We were blessed having known her.”
“Thank you, Cobble.” He nodded his acknowledgment and walked away. “If only she’d been blessed to have known me.”
Cobble’s rough hand gripped Nathan’s shoulder and spun him around. Nathan jerked away from the elderly man.
“You’ve got a few attics to let if you believe she wasn’t blessed to have known you.” Cobble crossed his arms over his chest. “I understand if yer feelin sorry fer yerself, but I heard it straight from her rosy lips. She was grateful you rescued her, not only from her mama, but also from a life of exile due to a tarnished reputation.”
“At least she would have been alive.”
“She didn’t believe so. It didn’t matter that she cast up her accounts for most of the trip. Lady Winthrop reveled in the freedom and the opportunity to see the world. Don’t ruin her memory. The last thing she’d want is for you to become bitter.”
Nathan’s shoulders sagged. “You don’t understand.”
“I know the world is cursed. Bad things have happened since Adam ate that apple, and cuz we’re in the world, we’re cursed, too.” He waggled a finger in the air. “But Jesus took the curse on himself. Lady Winthrop taught me that.” Cobble reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out a worn leather book. “She got me back readin’ and seekin’ God’s truth. Turn to your Heavenly Father, and He’ll ease yer pain.”
“I believe in God.” Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t believe God is going to help me.”
“If you turn yer heart away and believe in witches and put other things above God, then He cannot bless that life.” Cobble clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “Ya have to choose faith and choose life. No matter the hardships, Lady Winthrop chose to see the best. She chose life.”
Nathan gritted his teeth. “She’s dead, Cobble. Her life was taken from her. How is that not a curse?”
“Once she realized her life was a gift, she lived it to the full. She touched my soul and influenced many on this ship. I believe she’d say that was why we’re put on this earth—to give hope and run God’s race through to completion. I wish she’d been around longer, but I know she’d tell me her death was part of God’s bigger plan.”
An awkward silence fell between them, and only the sound of the bow plowing through the waves could be heard. His family had believed the same, but so much had happened. When it came to the Winthrops, God, it seemed, had looked the other way.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, my friend.” Nathan sighed and stepped away. “But I don’t deserve it.”
Cobble turned and let him pass. “None of us do. That’s the wondrous love of Jesus.”
Lottie’s head pounded, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed sand, but she was awake and, although exhausted, felt better than she had in days.
She cracked her eyelids open. The blinding sunlight streaming in the window sent a stabbing pain through her skull. She quickly closed them and shifted to face the wall. That action, too, intensified the throbbing.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, followed by the jiggling of the latch and the squeak of the hinges. Probably Franny coming to check on her.
“He ruined the plan by sailing.”
It was Julia’s voice. A second heavier pair of footsteps entered the room.
“Should you be speakin’ so freely?”
Lottie recognized Paul’s deep baritone voice.
“It’s been several days, and she hasn’t awakened.” Julia’s hand shook Lottie’s shoulder.
She wanted to answer, to turn and let them know she was awake, but her exhausted body wouldn’t obey her command.
“She’s holding on longer than I would have guessed.” Julia released her shoulder. “Considering what a frail thing she was.”
Was? Past tense?
“Her odds be slim.” Paul’s voice drew closer. “Her colorin’ is mighty yellow.”
“It won’t be much longer now.”
“I’ll start makin’ arrangements for da funeral.”
Lottie flitted in and out of consciousness. Images of the past and present merged within her dream state—Nathan’s smile, Julia dancing with Captain Fielding, women from the market touching her red hair, Paul’s dark scowl, Julia’s folded arms.
Shoes clicked toward the door. “It’s a shame the fever is taking her.” Julia’s voice reverberated in Lottie’s ears as if echoing in a windowless chamber. “She turned out to be a boon. Winthrop would have stayed on the island, but with her ill, he’s already back aboard.”
Nathan left? He was sailing on the Katherine? Was he so anxious for her to be gone?
Paul’s voice grew louder. “Don’t be forgettin’ yer promise.”
Julia exhaled a deep sigh. “Jere is gifted at pitching the gammon. He’ll find a way to gull Winthrop into believing it was privateers. Before he’s the wiser, we’ll have sold Winthrop’s cargo and settled into our manor in Florida.”
Florida. Nathan hates Florida. No, Gator hates alligators. One particular gator…in Florida.
“Don’t fear,” Julia whispered. “If this run goes well, you shall gain your freedom for your assistance.”
Lottie held completely still, fighting to grasp the bits of thoughts and snatch the pieces of
conversations as they floated past her ears. Her heart and head throbbed in rhythm. Was she conscious or dreaming? Fielding…Julia…smugglers? Shamming Nathan? God. Protect. Him.
Julia’s boots clicked down the hall. The hinges squeaked, and the latch on the door clicked. Paul’s heavy footfalls followed her.
Captain Fielding…lying rogue? Julia his jade? Weariness washed over her, and any clear thought danced out of her reach. Nightmare? Sleep took her.
She awoke again later to the swish of skirts and struggled to roll over.
“Franny. Bring some bread and broth. Our patient is awake.” Julia brushed a strand of hair off Lottie’s face.
She peered into Julia’s warm eyes as the woman helped prop up her head with pillows.
“Lady Winthrop.” Franny rushed to her side and knelt. “You’re awake. Praise God. We were beginning to think the worst. You’ve been unconscious for days.” She held up a spoon. “Do you feel up to eating?”
Lottie nodded. She needed something to bring her energy back.
“Mr. Winthrop will be so pleased.” Julia rose and offered Franny her seat by Lottie’s bedside. “He stayed by your side day in and out.” She tilted her head towards the chair to her left. “He slept for a whole week in that very chair. It’s a wonder he could even move. That seat is not very comfortable, as I’ve discovered since he left.”
Lottie’s heart clenched, and she closed her eyes. His business was everything to him. He felt responsible for so many people, and that was an honorable trait. She shouldn’t be disappointed he’d left, but her heart wouldn’t listen to her head.
Franny tilted the spoon, and the warm broth ran down Lottie’s throat. “I think you scared him when you turned for the worst. He hollered for me, and when I got here, you were in a sorry state. I dropped to my knees and prayed. I thought your time had drawn near, and so did Mr. Winthrop. Charlie came to wish me farewell before they shipped off. He said Mr. Winthrop was not himself. Charlie said he was as skittish as a newborn colt.” A sad smile touched the lips of her hopelessly romantic lady’s maid. “I believe he left because his heart was breaking.”
“He had business…” to attend. Nothing more. She finished the sentence in her head, for speaking the words required too much energy.
“Eat and then rest.” Julia opened the door. “I’m going to check on the staff and let them know the good news. They’ll be delighted. I’ll come back in a bit.”
Lottie swallowed several more spoonfuls of broth before her eyelids slid to a close.
Praise God, it had only been a nightmare.
Chapter 24
Much to my dismay another splendid catch is off the market. The Duke of Linton has returned from hiding, but announced his engagement to Miss Georgia Lennox in the papers. If you recall, she’s the woman who always dressed in the color pink.
~ From Priscilla to Lottie
Lottie’s appetite had finally returned in full. She donned a chintz day gown with tiny pink flowers and descended the steps to the dining room.
In the last two weeks, she’d made tremendous progress towards a complete recovery. Between naps, she read her Bible and spent time in prayer, thanking God for second chances in life and claiming the same for her marriage. Her strength had been the last to return, but even that showed promise. Yesterday, she’d strolled to the pier and back. Each time she pressed herself to walk a bit further. The fresh air had felt wonderful, and the sunshine worked magic on her constitution.
Julia was already seated in her usual spot by the window, and she raised a hand when she spied Lottie. Paul pulled out the chair in front of her, and Lottie sat.
“There’s color in your cheeks today, and your eyes don’t appear as hollow. You’ve made a miraculous recovery.”
“Praise God.” Lottie leaned back so Paul could pour a her glass of lemonade. “He still has plans for me yet.”
Julia leaned in. “We all thought you were on your way to kingdom come. We’ve seen a lot of people, way too many for my taste, come down with the fever. Once their eyes and skin assume the yellowish tinge, very few come back. You’re a strong woman, Lady Winthrop.”
Lottie smiled. “I have been called a lot of things, but strong has never been one of them.” She examined her arms. “I’ve always been thin and frail, and now it’s even worse. I daresay I haven’t a bit of meat left on me.”
“I shall endeavor to fatten you up.” Julia signaled for their dinner, and Paul carried in a large tray of sweetmeats and cheeses. “Give her a double portion.”
Lottie laughed, but an odd feeling niggled to the surface as an image of Julia and Paul standing over her sickbed flashed through her mind.
“I’ve enjoyed dining together.” Julia unfolded her napkin and set it on her lap. “I must confess, I grow lonely when Jere is away. It’s nice to have someone who understands.”
“Nathan and I haven’t been together as long as you and Captain Fielding have, but I do miss him, and I hope one day he will look at me the same way the captain looks at you.”
Julia sipped her drink and eyed Lottie over the rim. Despite Julia’s aloof demeanor, Lottie had on occasion been able to coax a smile from her.
“And that he will also call me his love,” Lottie added. “He doesn’t need to say it in various languages, though. English will do.”
Julia pressed her napkin to her lips and her dark eyes flashed with pleasure. “He started learning different languages when I shared with him my dream of opening an inn in every port. He only remembers how to say my love, but he claims that is all he needed to know.”
“And, look.” Lottie held out her open palms and peered about the room. “You’ve already started on your dream.” Lottie laid her hands on the table and leaned in. “So, where is your next one to be established?”
A dimple appeared in Julia’s cheek as her smile twisted into a cynical grin. She shook her head. “It wasn’t meant to be. The Cockleshell has never brought in enough profit to warrant the establishment of a second, not to mention one in every port.” Her face hardened with cold dignity. “So Jere went back to sailing the seas.”
“And you stay here to run the inn instead of sailing with him. Do you ever wish to travel alongside your husband?”
“No.” Her tone was firm. “My constitution is stronger than yours, but I despise the constant queasy sensation of an unsettled stomach. I sail when I must, but otherwise, I keep my feet on dry ground.”
Lottie raised her glass. “To dry ground.”
Julia clinked her goblet against Lottie. “To dry ground.”
Lottie lowered her glass first. “You shouldn’t give up on your dream. Who’s to say an inn wouldn’t do better on another island, or even in America? I’ve heard more and more people are settling in the west and in the gulf. They will surely need an inn for visitors. Your experiences here have taught you what to do and not do for your next venture.”
“We’ve considered the Spanish territory of Florida, but you, my friend, are overly optimistic. Do you ever have a negative thought?”
Before he’s the wiser, we’ll be settled into our manor in Florida. Lottie blinked away the remnants of her fever-driven nightmare and didn’t answer Julia’s question.
Franny rushed into the room waving letters above her head. “My lady, a ship arrived with mail from home.”
“How splendid.” Lottie put down her fork.
Franny set three letters next to Lottie on the table, and Franny herself kept one.
Julia finished chewing her bite and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Please, do not wait to read them on my account.”
“Go ahead and read yours also.” Lottie nodded to Franny. “Letters are a special treat. If you don’t open them now, the suspense will distract you, and you won’t hear a word I say.”
“It’s from my mum.” Franny tore open the letter and devoured its contents.
Lottie was a bit more careful and used the edge of her knife to slice the top fold. She recognized Priscilla’s
loopy script and skimmed it, reading a few of the highlights out loud for Julia’s benefit. “She says everyone is atwitter with the return of the Duke of Linton. It turns out all this time he’d been residing right here on our sister island of Nevis.” Lottie glanced at Julia over the pages. “Were you aware of this? Did you ever see him?”
Julia shrugged. “People can hide in these parts if they keep to themselves, which he must have, because word of a duke would have spread quickly.”
Lottie scanned the letter further. “She says by the time we receive this letter, the Duke will have married Lady Georgia Lennox. They fell in love when she visited her father on the island.” She folded the letter closed. “How romantic.”
“Lennox.” Julia tapped her bottom lip with her index finger. “I do know that name. I believe her father was a planter. I think Winthrop had some dealings with him. Shipped his barrels of sugar to England.”
The next letter she knew to be from her mother. She placed it next to her on the chair to read later. Even though she longed to know how her family was faring, it would be best to read that one from the privacy of her room.
She didn’t recognize the handwriting of the third letter. The nonchalant, slanted script could only be from a male hand, but it wasn’t her father’s nor her brother’s. Most curious. She opened the letter, and her gaze fell on the signature at the bottom.
Anthony.
Her head drew back. Why would Anthony write her? She scanned the brief contents. His ship would be anchoring at St. Kitts to deliver some recruits to Brimstone Hill, and he would like to pay her a visit during his brief stay to see how she was faring.
“You look puzzled.” Julia raised a questioning brow.
“It seems my friend’s brother will be arriving in St. Kitts, and he would like to call upon me.”
“Oh.” Franny glanced up from her letter. “Does it say upon which ship he is sailing? I saw a British frigate coming into port. I believe it was the Fortitude.”
