The Siren's Call

by Candace Osmond

  “M-my mother,” he spoke with a still strained voice, cheeks reddening further.

  It took a moment, but I remembered what he asked me while The Queen was still at sea.

  “Oh, of course, Charlie. I promised to take you to your mother, and I will. I swear. Things have just been a little… chaotic since we came here.” I leaned in and whispered, trying to make him feel privileged to information, even though our small party could hear. “We’ve got a trail on Maria.”

  I thought he’d smile or seem relieved, but the young man’s face paled and I watched as his hand mindlessly gripped the collar of his shirt even tighter. He flipped open the notebook and licked a worn-down lead before writing one word.

  Soon?

  My heart gave one hard beat as I realized the anxiety he clearly harbored about Maria. Hiding the massive scar across his neck, refusing to use his voice. He must have deeply missed his mother and ached to go see her, especially now that we were so close.

  “You know, I won’t make you stay if you wish to go, Charlie.” I pat the back of his hand gingerly. “If you’d like to go home, you can.”

  He didn’t answer, only hung his head after pocketing the notebook and lead.

  “With all due respect, Captain,” John spoke from across the table. “I believe Charlie here really wanted to bring you with him. I think,” he paused and eyed Charlie, as if asking permission to continue, “he wants his mum to meet the woman who saved his life.”

  My eyes welled with tears and I looked to my young friend. His sorrowful expression confirmed John’s words. I was suddenly regretting how much I’d ignored him since docking in Southampton and was grateful for the friendship he’d obviously formed with John and Seamus. Apparently, he even felt comfortable enough to speak around them. But why would he still feel self-conscious about speaking in front of me?

  “Charlie,” I said just barely above a whisper, for that was all I could manage without crying in front of everyone in The Kraken’s Den. “You are the one who saved me. That night in the woods. I owe you my life. Helping to heal your wound was the least I could do repay the sacrifice you made for me.”

  Shakily, he smiled proudly.

  “Nevertheless,” I continued. “I’d be honored to meet your mother and tell her how amazing her boy is.” I leaned back in the chair and glanced at Lottie who gave me a shrug. I heaved a sigh. “Just give me a few days, okay?”

  Charlie nodded, but had a hopeful look on his face.

  “If I make it through this party tonight and learn more about Maria’s whereabouts, then I promise to take you home.”

  Just then, the innkeeper came to our table with three massive plates of food. “Hello, boys,” he greeted happily. “Sorry for the long wait, I’m afraid it’s just me and the cook here tonight.”

  Seamus immediately began to dig into the pile of cooked vegetables and meat covered in gravy. John looked up at the innkeeper respectfully. “No wait a’tall, Mister Cresley.”

  Cresley. I hadn’t even asked the innkeeper his name. How horribly negligent of me. I’d been so preoccupied with finding Maria that I forgotten everything else.

  “Ladies, can I get you anything?” the kind man asked Lottie and I.

  I stood and then pushed in my chair. “No, thank you,” I told him as Lottie came to my side. “I was just checking in with my boys. I truly appreciate you tending to them in my absence, Mister Cresley. If there's anything you need help with around the tavern, they’d be happy to help you, I’m sure.” I cast the three young men a motion over my shoulder and their food stuffed faces nodded in agreement.

  “Especially tonight. You said you were short-handed. Charlotte and I have to head out in search of some dresses, so–”

  “Dresses, you say?” Cresley inquired. “What sort?”

  “Fancy ones, for a big party over at The Siren’s Call,” Lottie told him with a huff and rolled her blue eyes.

  “Ah, yes, that one,” the tall, slender man said knowingly and rubbed his chin. “Wallace is well known for her annual Yule Dinner and Dance.” He gave a friendly chuckle. “Seems to get bigger and fancier each year. I imagine you lovely ladies will be wantin’ beautiful gowns. Any ol’ dress just won’t do. Especially with your lovely belly to consider.”

  I rubbed a hand over my large stomach. “Yes, but we can’t exactly be picky on such short notice. The party is in a few hours.”

  Mister Cresley shook his head. “Nonsense. I’ll have my driver take you to a wonderful tailor with the most magnificent formal wear. She’ll fit you on the spot.” The old man’s eyes glistened as he grinned widely. “She’ll make you look like queens.”

  Lottie and I exchanged a look of surprise before I turned back to our new friend with a grin.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  ***

  Mister Cresley’s personal driver, an extremely tall and broad man, much the same build as Henry, happily drove the carriage through Southampton toward Market Square. He went around another way than Lottie and I had earlier, leading the horse-drawn buggy to the upper area where the apothecary was and the fancier stores. I glanced out the quaint little window as we circled the large stone fountain which sat in the center and came to a stop. The carriage jostled as the driver jumped down from his seat and graciously opened the door for us. I gripped his outstretched hand tightly as I stepped down to the cobblestone below.

  “Thank you,” I told him and smiled.

  He turned and helped Lottie out. “You’re most welcome, Miss. The store Mister Cresley spoke about is just right there.”

  I followed his motioned gaze toward the storefront I spotted before, with the stunning silk dresses and glistening jewelry boasting in the large window.

  “Madam Guthrie is the best there is. They says she can work magic with those ol’ fingers of hers. You’re in good hands, I reckon. And you needn’t worry. Take your time, I shall await your return right here.” He tipped his flat cap and jumped back up in his seat with ease.

  Lottie raised her thin blonde brows. “Well, she’d best have magic fingers to find a fancy dress to my liking.” She looped her arm through mine and led us toward the shop. “Bloody fabric prisons, they are. Too big. Always have to be watchin’ where you step so the dress doesn’t knock things over. Ridiculous.”

  My friend heaved on the heavy wooden door; the tiny bell hung overhead jingling as she did. We stepped inside, taken aback by the endless rows of hung garments and vertical displays of handbags and other accessories. Mesmerizing jewel tones painted a dark rainbow throughout the space, reflecting the ample lantern light with silks and other radiant textiles.

  “How can I help you two beauties?” a croaky old smoker’s voice sounded from the back of the shop.

  We stood and watched as the wave of movement made its way through the stacks of bags and layers of hung garments until the body of a tiny old woman emerged in front of us. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Cream colored silks hung loosely from her teeny frame, her neck adorned with rows and rows of pearls. A pair of dainty, wired framed specs sat in the bridge of her long nose. The woman was like something out of a children’s fairy tale. The quirky and wise old lady.

  “Madam Guthrie, I presume?” I offered my hand and she took it, the abnormally long and crooked fingers of hers wrapping around mine.

  “Yes,” she croaked happily and squinted up at our faces. “Let me guess, you’re in need of dresses for tonight’s Yule Dinner and Dance.”

  Lottie’s face paled as her widened eyes looked to me. Unable to hide my own surprise at the woman’s perception, I let out a laugh. “You’re as wise as you appear, Madam. You would be correct. But, as you can imagine, we need something quick.”

  Lottie caught sight of something to our right and she pointed to a small section of menswear. “And perhaps a couple of men’s suits, as well.”

  “Certainly,” she replied. “Do you know their measurements?”

  “I can take a guess,” Lottie told her and
shrugged. “For Augustus, anyway.”

  The two women awaited my response and I chewed at my bottom lip in thought. Henry would definitely need something to wear. And he’d be out taking care of Wallace’s favor until the party. But I didn’t have the faintest idea what his measurements were. I glanced out the window at our carriage and grinned.

  “Would you mind fetching the driver?” I asked Lottie.

  She didn’t seem to understand but asked no questions, regardless. She ran outside, blonde hair swaying back and forth as she did, and I watched as my friend chatted with the driver for a quick moment and then returned with him. His large frame entered the shop and he politely removed his hat, holding it to his chest.

  “Is everything alright, Miss White?”

  I still wasn’t used to that, hearing Henry’s true name spoken with such ease. I didn’t bother to correct him, to say that I’d yet to inherit the name. I smiled. “I never did get your name.”

  “Cillian, Miss.”

  “Cillian, you’re just about the same height and build as my fiancé, Henry.” I paused to laugh. “Would you mind trying on some garments for me?”

  He appeared hesitant, but dutifully accepted with a nod. “Of course, Miss.”

  I made a mental note to give Cillian a nice tip when we arrived back at the Den. Madam Guthrie showed us an array of options for men’s suits, pulling them out from piles and racks of bottomless clothing. She seemed to know every single article of cloth in the shop and we watched with amusement as her tiny body sometimes disappeared among the hanging dresses and jackets. Finally, after poor Cillian had tried on a dozen outfits, I had found the perfect suit for Henry. Black cotton trousers, black leather vest and matching pea coat that fit snuggly over a stark white blouse and neck scarf. I could just imagine how handsome he’d look in it.

  Lottie plucked a tan suede coat with a dark brown vest that appeared to be some sort of silk for Gus. I tried to stifle the giggle that forced its way out at the thought of her getting him to wear something so fancy. Then my mind went to a side note. Finn.

  “Madam Guthrie, would you happen to have something appropriate for a Scotsman to wear?” I motioned with my head toward the door where Cillian had just slipped out. “For someone a little larger than Cillian?”

  Her beady eyes widened behind the teeny specs. “Larger? Good grief, are you dressing a Scotsman or a giant?”

  Lottie and I exchanged a knowing glance and I laughed. “A bit of both. He’s a big man. I’d understand if you don’t have anything on such short notice.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve yet to turn someone away undressed.” The old woman waggled her bony fingers. “Madam Guthrie has something for everyone, dearie.”

  She weaved her way to the back of the store, leaving Lottie and I standing in wait. We wandered around, picking at random dresses, all beautiful in their own way but none that appealed to me. Too poofy, too small, too much color, not enough color. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding something nice enough to wow the socks off Henry but also narrow the jealous eyes of Roselyn Wallace. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Madam Guthrie returned with a few thick garments draped over her short arm. Plaid in color.

  “Do you know the Scot’s clan?” she asked us.

  “His clan?” I questioned back.

  Lottie cleared her throat. “Finn’s last name. It depicts which Scottish clan he comes from. He doesn’t share much of himself outside his life aboard the ship, though. And I’ve never seen his tartan before.”

  Clan. Tartan. These were new terms to me, and I suddenly felt like a horrible friend. But then I recalled my first encounter with Wallace. Yeah, my ears may have filled with the pounding of my anxious heart, but I still remember hearing her address Finn by his full name.

  “Finnigan Artair, is his name,” I told them both.

  “Aha, excellent!” Madam Guthrie exclaimed and began sifting through the hefty layers on her arm. “I have the Clan Artair hunting tartan but also this more traditional, common cloth.” She pulled out a gorgeous, vibrant green plaid with bright yellow and gold stripes. “This one’s already made into a kilt and should fit a man of large proportions.”

  I shook my head in astonishment. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

  “Wonderful,” she replied and opened a large, wooden chest near our feet. “You’ll also need these.”

  She pulled out long white socks, a neatly folded green jacket with gold buttons, and a crisp off-white shirt. I graciously accepted the items and laid them on top of the kilt before setting them aside with Henry’s outfit.

  “Now, dearies,” she said and clasped her hands together. “It’s time to dress the both of your gorgeous bodies. Have your eyes caught anything of interest?”

  “I’d prefer something that isn’t too… large,” Lottie told her and motioned at her sides with her hands. “I’d very much like to move without needing a wide girth of space around me.” She chewed at her lip in thought. “And nothing too colorful.”

  Madam Guthrie nodded slowly, rubbing at her chin as she looked Lottie up and down. She hummed and hawed as her tiny hands with long fingers picked at Lottie’s body, lifting her arms and cinching her waist.

  “What a fine specimen you are,” the woman croaked as she flipped up the bottom of Lottie’s plain brown skirt and measured the long legs underneath. “Are you sure you don’t want something in an emerald?” She stood and pushed up the spectacles on her nose. “Or a lovely sapphire blue?”

  Lottie’s face twisted in annoyance. “No, nothing too color–”

  “Sapphire blue.” The woman’s bob of grey hair disappeared to the left side of the shop like a little rabbit sprinting into the forest.

  “No, Madam Guthrie!” Lottie called after her.

  “Just trust me, child!”

  Her raspy voice seemed to come from all around the store as it echoed off the many surfaces and I laughed. Lottie turned to me, unamused.

  “This little witch lady is going to make me look ridiculous.”

  “Have a little faith,” I told my friend. “I mean, look how she just had the perfect things for Henry, Gus, and Finn. I’m sure she knows how to dress you.”

  Lottie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tightly. “Yes, a little too perfect, don’t you think?”

  I stole a glance in the general direction that Madam Guthrie had disappeared and stepped closer to Lottie, voice lowered to a whisper. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been all over the world with my father,” she spoke quiet and quick. “And never have I ever come across a tailor or shop that just happens to have exactly what you want. Or the measurements you need. It’s just unheard of.”

  I let her words stew in my brain. It was a little too perfect.

  “You think she’s really a witch?”

  “What of it?” Madam Guthrie spoke as she appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a heap of dark blue silk draped over her shoulder.

  Startled, both Lottie and I scrambled for words. The woman let out a loud, raspy cackle.

  “No, dearies, a witch I am not. More of a collector. A curator of the unusual. Sure, one can step into any tailor and have a garment made just for them.” She paused and fanned her hand around the space where we stood surrounded by mountains of items. “But in my store, the perfect outfit is already waiting.”

  “Apologies, Madam, I meant no disrespect.” Lottie blushed as she hung her head.

  “No need for that,” the woman assured and then yanked the dress from her shoulder. “We have you two pretty little things to dress and very little time to do so. I may be a miracle worker and tailor quickly, but I am still human.” She threw Lottie a playful smirk. “Regardless of what some may say.”

  Lottie pursed her lips and eyeballed the dress. “I really appreciate you helping us on such short notice, Madam Guthrie, and I’m sure the dress is beautiful, but I just don’t–”

  “You, dearie, will wear this stunning creation of sapphire and love it. I Promise.”
Before Lottie could respond, Madam Guthrie added, “Just omit the pannier and you won’t have to worry about the space you occupy.”

  Lottie held the words in her mouth for a moment, wanting so desperately to argue against the dress she clearly thought was far too fancy. But she let it go.

  “Now, my pregnant brunette. What shall you wear?”

  I swallowed hard against the dryness of my throat as the woman circled my body, sizing everything up and taking stock of what she had to work with. I’d already had a look around and saw nothing even remotely close to something that would fit me properly without looking like an undesirable maid.

  “You’ve got quite the neck,” she observed. “Long and dainty. But a frame that’s strong. And that hair.” She clucked her tongue. “Like dark chocolate.”

  “I have to look…” I suddenly felt self-conscious at the thought of admitting my goal. “I don’t want to necessarily hide the fact that I’m with child. I know that’s almost impossible at this point, and it’s not something I care to hide, anyway. I just want to look… I hope to find a dress that will–”

  “Be the envy of every woman in the room?” Madam Guthrie finished for me with a cocked eyebrow.

  I felt my cheeks flush. “No, just one.”

  She beckoned Lottie with a curl of one long, bony finger over to a stack of large flattop trunks. I watched as they removed the top two, leaving just one short and wide box with gaudy brass hardware. Lottie came back and stood next to me as Madam Guthrie fished a key from a full ring at her side and unlocked the trunk. The top creaked as it opened, and the woman reached in to pull out a beautiful silk dress. Red as fresh blood and a black corset to top it off. I hadn’t a clue what I wanted until I laid eyes on the dress she held up in her hands. Now it was as if it were the very thing I’d been searching for.

  “This was worn by the Duchess of Devonshire on her birthday and during her first pregnancy. A few simple alterations to the waistline and the boning is all it requires. It was made for you, dearie.”

  I was at a loss for words. “Madam Guthrie…”