Alejandro brushed his hand through his beard. “De nada, Miss Everly.” He rapped his knuckles against his thigh, glancing about the clearing. “Is there anything else I might do for you?”
She hesitated to answer, darting a glance over her shoulder at the hut. “Perhaps. If you do not think it too forward to ask. Would you mind escorting me to the well? There are so many of us, the water disappears dreadfully fast, with only the one pail.”
“Of course, if that is what you wish.” He went to fetch the pail, a piece of equipment he had once never paused to consider in his life before the island, and now it was an important part of his existence. He hauled water, boiled in it, cooked food inside it. Something others took for granted had become a treasure to him, washed ashore by the sea.
He arrived back at her side, bucket in hand, and gestured to the path they had traversed together two days previous. Miss Everly went ahead of him on the narrow path, her hands swinging at her side like a child rather than a lady taught proper decorum.
Her bare feet skirted tree roots and larger stones. How had she adapted to that aspect of the island with such speed? He never heard her complain, whereas her friend never spoke unless it was to vent her spleen.
What had her life been like before she came here? Not a single woman of his former acquaintance would have accepted their fate upon this island as she had.
“Where did you say you were from, Alejandro?” she asked, as though she had read his mind and found herself as curious as he. She peered over her shoulder at him. “Río de le Plata?”
“Part of a viceroyalty,” he answered. “There is a governor, tied directly to the politics of the courts in España, who oversees everything from the laws to tax collection.” The path widened enough for him to lengthen his stride, coming to walk next to her. “My father, he is a peninsular, one who was born in España and came to the colonies to seek his wealth. He is from an old family that ran out of estates to give to younger sons.”
The young woman nodded, her lips pursed as she considered what he said. “Were you born in Spain?”
“No, Miss Everly. I am un criollo. Of a sort. I was born in Buenos Aires and educated by monks at our only university.”
“Yes. So you could learn how to properly run a country after a revolution.” At that her expression changed from one of curiosity to amusement, her lips twitching upward. Every time she did that, he wondered how easily he might make her laugh. “I should not say as much to the others, señor. There are some among my party who doubtless still hold out hope the former colonies will beg for English rule once more. I have heard as much from many gentlemen, especially since the revolution in France has proven such a debacle.”
“People will always fight for their freedom, Miss Everly, even if it takes several tries to get it right.” Alejandro moved a branch out of their way, letting her slip beneath it before ducking under himself. “My father was loyal to the courts for many years. Until the British attacked our lands and Ferdinand’s government proved weak.” He stared up at the cloudless sky, his father’s severe frown coming to mind. “Papá, he called Ferdinand un león sin dientes. A lion—”
“—Without teeth,” she finished for him, her eyes sparkling. “That is an apt description for a king imprisoned.”
“Sí. You speak español, Miss Everly?”
“I have some knowledge of Latin and French, Señor Córdoba.” She stepped over a large rock as gracefully as she could with her long tattered skirts. “It is not difficult to understand what you say, even if I am not entirely capable of speaking the language myself.”
That made sense. Alejandro stepped out of the trees and into the small ditch, his eyes on the well. The dune beyond it hid the shoreline from sight but the crash of waves were easily heard.
“I am grateful for that sound,” Miss Everly murmured, pausing at the edge of the stone well. “If I close my eyes, I can pretend I am home.” She did just that, her dark eyelashes resting against her sunburned cheeks. Alejandro let himself enjoy the moment, watching the beautiful woman experience a moment of peace in their uncertain situation. Her pink lips, somewhat chapped, even turned upward in a wistful smile.
Such a shame that she would not hear the waves of her homeland again.
That thought shot through him, bitter to his mind as cardamom to his tongue, and he turned to his task at the well. He tied the rope to the pail and dropped it into the water, glaring into the shaded pool below.
“Is something wrong?” Miss Everly’s voice had such an interesting quality to it. He would not describe her manner of speaking as soft, though he sensed kindness in her nature. No, she demanded answers, even if she did so politely.
“I am sorry that you are here,” he answered, granting her truth rather than a perpetuation of the lie that rescue would come. “You have a family who will miss you. This is no place for a woman such as you, Miss Everly.”
“It isn’t really a place for anyone,” she said, tone light. “I am terribly sorry that you have been here alone all this time. I cannot think it has been easy for you. Yet it must feel as though we have invaded whatever peace it is you have found in your time here.”
Surprised by that observation, he looked directly at her. How had she stumbled upon that thought? It was one he had turned about in his own mind without having found a satisfactory way to explain himself. “I cannot be happy there are more people trapped here,” he said. “And it is true, I am troubled by what it means to have people to care for who might not wish for my help. But—” He broke off and frowned into the water, then started hauling the bucket up again.
“But it must be somewhat of a relief to know you are not all alone.” Miss Everly took a step closer to him, though they were still easily an arm’s distance away. “I think I can understand that, señor. Where I am from, I have a wonderful family and friends I love and treasure. To be without them is difficult. There is no one like my sister. I tell her everything.”
“You have Miss Carlbury,” he reminded her, wondering if that was any sort of balm to the loneliness she expressed. “She at least knows you.”
“Yes. Irene knows me.” She turned away from him, toward the dune and the waves beyond. “But I would not say she understands. Not the way my sister does. You know, it was nearly my sister who came on the voyage with the Carlburys instead of me.”
He clasped the handle of the pail and lowered it to the ground beside him, covering the well again. “Does it give you relief to know you are here instead of her?” he asked. “I cannot imagine wishing another in my place.”
“I would never wish that for her,” she admitted easily. “My sister is not the sort who likes to be far from home. I do not think she would have had quite Miss Carlbury’s reaction to this disaster, but I imagine she would be more likely to sit quietly and wait for instruction than I have been.” Her eyes gazed further than the skyline, likely reaching into memory as she considered her sister. “It is a good thing I came in her place.”
That was a strange way to phrase it. Alejandro picked up the bucket and stepped onto the path. “We have your water, Miss Everly.”
“Oh. I suppose that means we must go back.” Her stare sank to the ground, then she clasped her hands behind her back. “I hoped it would take longer.” She started up the path again.
Why would she say that? Did she wish for more time with him, or less time sitting idle? He considered how he might ask without being too forward, but immediately chastised himself. He had already made it clear through his actions that nothing could pass between them.
It did not matter if he longed to spend more time in her company. They were not in the fine parlors of Virginia, where he had paid court to the daughters of prominent lawyers and merchants, nor were they taking refreshment on his mother’s veranda in Río de La Plata. They were not in England, where he had heard customs were just as strict in terms of the relations between men and women. They were walking in the dirt and sand, barefoot, without the rules of any soci
ety to enforce consequences upon them.
Yet he wanted to hear, perhaps once more, what she felt when she came near him.
“Why do you wish to be away from the others?” he asked from behind her.
She hesitated and he nearly bumped into her, but instead pulled the bucket closer with both hands to avoid losing any water.
“It isn’t that I wish to be away.” She turned, the slight elevation of the hill bringing her nearly eye level with Alejandro. “I enjoy speaking to you. And moving about. When I am with the others, they expect me to behave myself as I would at home. Sit quietly, make conversation, and wait for others to tell me what to do.” Her eyes took on a somewhat sly look which he caught just before she turned again. “Of course, I do not exactly do those things, even in England.” A bittersweet smile graced her lips. “With you, I feel happier.”
Then she started up the hill again, leaving him to wonder what sort of young lady she was at home and if they would have liked each other had they met under the watchful eyes of England’s propriety.
He made her happy. If only he could free her from the island. If only Carlbury did not hover about her with such an air of possession. If only Alejandro knew, with a surety, that his family remained safe and their wealth secure. Then things would be different.
But there were far too many “if onlys” for him to entertain.
14
“Miss Everly?”
Hope raised her gaze from the berry and root broth she had made in the bottom of their water pail, trying not to make a face as bitter as the taste. The concoction wasn’t precisely tea, nor was it really soup, but the doctor had assured her it would prove a restorative drink for his wife. With an earnest desire to prove herself helpful, Hope had volunteered to create the potion for Mrs. Morgan.
Albert Carlbury stood over her, shifting from one foot to the other with hands hanging limply at his side. “Would you, perhaps, wish to join me on a short walk? After you are finished here, of course.”
Kneeling by the fire, perspiration upon her forehead and dirt beneath her fingernails, Hope had never felt less like a gently-bred young lady in her life. Yet Albert conducted himself in the exact manner he would have in any English drawing room. The incongruity puzzled her for a moment.
“A walk?” Hope came to her feet and brushed the soil and bits of grass from her dress. “I suppose a respite from the clearing would be welcome.” She used the corner of her gown to take the handle of the pail. “Let me make certain Doctor Morgan finds this acceptable.” She did not clarify whether it was the contents of the bucket or Albert’s company for which she sought the doctor’s approval.
Though Albert had always conducted himself as a gentleman, she had no desire to do anything with him that could be even remotely construed as inappropriate.
The doctor and Mrs. Morgan were in the shade again, he leaning against a tree and she resting with her head in his lap. Hope approached with her steaming pail, admiring the picture they made together. Rarely had she seen married couples outside of her own parents display such affection in public. But Mrs. Morgan’s injury and their predicament had apparently given the Morgans leave to relax some social customs. They stared at each other, conversing, with such gentle expressions. Neither smiled, yet one could immediately tell they were comfortable and happy with one another.
Their happy intimacy stirred a new sort of longing in Hope’s breast. Courtship had not interested her so much as filling her days with activity and excitement. But as tired as she was, their peaceful companionship struck her as something secure even in the uncertain circumstances the whole group found themselves in.
“I have your medicinal tea, Mrs. Morgan,” Hope said as she drew closer, not entirely certain they were aware enough of the world around them to see her approach.
Mrs. Morgan directed a pleased smile to Hope. “Thank you, dear. I am most grateful.”
The doctor helped her sit up, keeping one arm about her until his wife leaned against the tree. “Here. Let me fill your cup, Lillian.” The doctor produced a tall wooden cup, gifted to them by Alejandro only that morning. He had provided the sailors with more wood suitable for carving, as all three had knives about their person, and given Mrs. Morgan the only cup he’d made for himself before their coming. A most thoughtful gesture.
As the doctor tipped the contents of the pail into the cup, Hope glanced over her shoulder to see Irene and her brother on the opposite side of the clearing conversing.
Maybe he had invited his sister on their walk, too.
“Doctor? Mr. Carlbury has asked me to accompany him on a walk. Does that meet with your approval?”
He glanced up briefly, his eyebrows drawn together. “You did not inform me yesterday where you went when you fetched water with our island host.”
No, she had not. “And you made certain I knew I ought to do so next time,” she reminded him, forcing sweetness into her smile. “I assume that measure of considerate behavior extends to anyone in our group.”
“Likely a safe assumption.” He handed the cup to his wife, then scratched at the beard thickening at his chin. After only a few days, all the men had varying amounts of facial hair appearing. The doctor’s was mostly black with a few gray spots as well, very much like salt and pepper. “Yes, but do not be gone long. There is no sense in overexerting yourself in this heat.”
Hope easily agreed to that stipulation and went to inform Albert. She kept brushing her hands on her gown, but the grime of both skin and fabric meant nothing at all felt clean. Somehow, Hope needed to find a way to wash herself and her clothing. All the men had taken turns fishing and apparently used the opportunity to bathe, too. They all looked much cleaner than she felt, despite their beards.
“Hello, Irene. Your brother and I were about to take a walk. Will you be joining us?” Hope asked, hoping the question might serve as an invitation if Albert hadn’t thought to extend one to his sister.
Irene crossed her arms over her chest and cast her brother a look obviously meant to convey irritation. “I think not. As dreadfully bored as I am, I have no wish to traipse about in the jungle.”
“You might loan Miss Everly your shoes,” Albert said, narrowing his eyes at his sister and pointing to her feet. “She has had none since we came, though I do believe Miss Everly has walked twice the amount you have.”
Wearing shoes that were too large, and had been on the feet of another for several days, did not appeal to Hope at all. “Please, do not trouble yourselves over shoes. I am quite content as I am. My feet have grown accustomed to the ground, so long as it is not too rocky.”
“There, you see,” Irene said, her chin coming up. “Grace is perfectly adept, and you will not be gone long.”
“No.” Albert gave up with a weary shake of his head. “Very well. Come, Miss Everly. I found a path that I think you will enjoy.” He offered Hope his arm, which she took somewhat hesitantly. Albert did not wear a coat, but his cravat was still knotted about his throat, and his hat resting on his head. How he’d had the presence of mind to keep his head covering in the midst of a storm still amused her. Had he been much help in the boat with the others, or had he kept a hand clamped to the top of his head for the whole of the row from sinking sloop to shore?
They said nothing until they were beneath the shade of the trees. Albert broke the silence first.
“I must say, Miss Everly, your reaction to our predicament has certainly impressed me. Impressed everyone, I should say. There are not many young ladies raised in society who would greet this desperate situation with such practicality and grace.”
Would Irene appreciate such a subtle comparison of her reaction to Hope’s? Likely not. “Thank you.” What more was she to say? She could hardly offer him a similar compliment. Though not as vocal as Irene, Albert had voiced a great many complaints of his own.
“My sister is fortunate to have you by her side,” he continued after a pause. “This is a nightmare for her, but your example will see her thro
ugh it. You are a steadying influence upon her, Miss Everly. I cannot help but think of what may have happened had your sister joined us instead.”
Hope stiffened without meaning to, and she immediately let go of his arm to brush an insect from her gown to excuse the movement. She did not take his arm up again. “I am certain Hope would have been of great help, too. She has an adventurous spirit but is as practical as I am.”
“Not that I have seen.” Albert moved a branch out of their path, holding it aside until she passed. “But you know her best, of course.”
What did this man hope to accomplish, dragging her on a walk in which he simultaneously complimented her and insulted other women? There had to be a point to the excursion.
He cleared his throat. “I have seen you in conversation with Córdoba.”
Ah, perhaps this was the crux of the invitation. “Yes, I find his knowledge of the island fascinating.” And the man himself stirred her in ways she would never admit aloud to one such as Albert Carlbury.
“If he has been here a year, as he says, I find it disappointing.” Albert came up beside her once more, his hands tucked behind him. “In a year’s time, he has not attempted to escape. I should have built a raft already, or kept signal fires burning.”
“I have heard his reasoning against both those things.” They all had. Hope tilted her head back to better take in Albert’s smirk. “Have you a plan of some sort, Mr. Carlbury?”
“Perhaps, though I intend to keep it to myself for the time being.” His chest puffed out rather like a rooster’s. “I do wonder if everything that man has told us is true. He could be no more than a deckhand from a Spanish merchant ship, you know. With the war, he would have reason enough to hide his identity from us.”
As one who had spent the past few months actively seeking to deceive others, Hope saw no indication of Alejandro doing the same. She lifted one shoulder and let it fall, declining to comment.
Saving Miss Everly Page 12
