Chapter Four
August 17, 1817
Elizabeth smoothed her hands along the front of her navy dress. It was plain and without fripperies, but it was the most cheerful of her gowns and it fit her form to a certain extent. Plus, it featured short sleeves even if they were without nuance. Would the captain think it too drab and dreary?
Put him from your mind, Elizabeth. That kiss was a one-off experience. He’s a rake.
Though the reasoning was sound, logical even, she couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to dwell on Captain Storme. His name held mystery and the lure of far-flung adventures. Was he as captivating and treacherous as his namesake? And oh, he was so handsome! That midnight black hair of his, shot with gray and given over to a devil-may-care style beneath his top hat. The cut and quality of his clothing signified he was no ordinary fisherman, as did the cultured tones and his way of speaking. Never had she seen such broad shoulders. The remembrance of the banked strength she’d felt while in his arms during the brief kiss or when she’d laid her fingers on his sleeve sent a delicious chill of delight coursing down her spine.
Whyhad he kissed her? Not for one moment did she believe the gammon he’d fed her about being swept away with her beauty, for she certainly wasn’t pretty. Relaxing her eyes, she caught her reflection in the window glass. A soft snort of derision escaped. No, her mousy brown hair in its severe knot wouldn’t drive any man to desire.
So why had he done it? Especially when there’d been many other women who’d attended the fair yesterday. The not-knowing would soon drive her mad. Drat her innocence and shock, for that one kiss might have been her only chance to experience such a thing.
I should have enjoyed myself or attempted to kiss him back, but I didn’t.Fear had caused her feet to run. Even now, guilt from that fleeting kiss buffeted her insides. What would the church elders do if they caught wind of her indiscretion? Would they consider her sullied or soiled, ban her from doing good works in their name?
“What are your plans for the afternoon?”
The sound of William’s voice startled Elizabeth out of her thoughts. Unease knotted her stomach muscles as she looked across the small parlor at her brother. She’d been standing at the window, gazing out into the tiny garden where her orderly rows of vegetables were flourishing. He’d spent the last couple of hours answering correspondence as well as writing a sermon he planned to orate if he could gather enough people in the town square.
What plans indeed. She’d told the captain she would meet him. Was that a wise choice for a woman who’d had it drummed into her over the years that ladies should be demure and subservient, who should never utter an opinion of their own, who should follow whatever dictates that the head of her household demanded? “I thought to visit the traveling fair again.”
She kept her focus on the garden while questions circled her mind like ponies on a loop. The rented house had been more than cozy, and she’d enjoyed it this past year. Once she and William departed for India, she’d be sad to leave it. What would happen to her vegetables and flowers when she was gone? Would the next set of occupants take care of them like she would have?
She sucked in a tiny breath. Perhaps she didn’t wish to go abroad. If she managed to work up the courage to say so, could she stay on in this house? But without coin to manage the rents or any other expenses, how was it possible? Perhaps I can take a position in town as a governess or teacher or—
“Whyever for?” The annoyance in William’s voice scattered her musings. “We were there yesterday, and from my experience, not many of the sinners found therein were receptive to the message.” A bit of a whine had set up in his tone. He truly despised it when he didn’t have his way, and ego told him he was one of God’s chosen or that he alone was better—more divine—than everyone else.
Whether it was true remained to be seen.
Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. Immediately, guilt broke over her, for such thoughts weren’t charitable or an example of God’s love. Yet William was just so… outrageous at times. “It’s not like you to give up so easily, Brother.” This, coming hard on the heels of the failed fishermen conversion, must stick in his craw. “Perhaps you should go a second time, but do so in a mindset of friendship.” Though, that would put a dent into her own plans. What would he do if he saw her conversing with Captain Storme?
“No.” He shook his head. “Not today. I thought to speak with some of the people in the tavern. Harlots and drunks are easier to sway than those who already believe in a religion, but I won’t give up.” The soft clink of china on china spoke to the fact that he finished his tea. “A stronger message is needed, I think, with those people.”
As if fishermen or the folks who made a living on the sea were as dirty as the muck he accumulated on the soles of his boots. And women who had no other choice but to make a living on their backs were humans beneath the mantle of supposed sin. Had he no compassion? Elizabeth narrowed her eyes while anger needled her chest. “Or perhaps a softer message would help,” she added and turned around to face him. “The more you try to ram convictions down anyone’s throat, the more they will resist.” Truly, her brother’s views on Christianity were somewhat cracked. “Being told time and time again they are sinners and destined for hell, that they don’t matter, won’t help your cause; it will only push them away.”
“Fear is a good motivator, Sister. That’s what these people need most, and the only way to reap the number of converts needed to curry praise with the movement.”
Ah, so that was his motivation. Somehow, she didn’t believe his earnestness in ministering to the people in India. Everything William did was a ploy to elevate his rank in the church. What else was he after? Not knowing, Elizabeth couldn’t quite tamp the urge to roll her eyes. “Perhaps you should try love instead, in addition to understanding. Isn’t that what God’s Word tells us to do? As well as being a light and an example for others to follow?”
“Bah! The masses don’t need coddling and neither do they need kindness. They need to know without a doubt their souls are in trouble.” William glanced up from his notes. “You are in a mood today.” He narrowed his eyes. “Has something untoward occurred since yesterday to cause you to become outspoken? I must say, it’s not becoming.”
Who was he to say how she should act, feel, or respond? The heat of anger slapped at her cheeks, but she tried to shove her quick reaction away. It wouldn’t do to show herself as anything other than a proper, Christian woman lest he deny her the tiny bit of freedom to attend the fair by herself. Yet, the urge to scream brewed deep down inside. Soon, she would reach the point where she couldn’t hold her ire inside any longer.
“Nothing has happened,” she finally said in a soft voice and stared at an out-of-place thread on the worn Oriental carpet. “My beliefs sometimes don’t run parallel to yours. There is no one right way to encourage people to the Lord.” Perhaps she did herself a grave disservice by allowing the events of yesterday afternoon to run away with her imagination. The mystery Captain Storme represented wasn’t for her. In fact, nothing in Ipswich was, and she’d best reconcile herself to that fact.
“I’ve half a mind to forbid you from going to the fair this afternoon. It might encourage willful behavior.” William once more perused his notes while cold disappointment sank into the pit of her stomach. “However, you’ve always been responsible and biddable. I suppose there’s no harm, as long as you stay away from the fortune teller and anything else that smacks of dark magic and sin.”
Is that what she’d become then? Biddable and a pawn for both her brother and the church? Annoyance twisted down her spine to obliterate the disappointment. The whole of her life she’d given over to what she’d considered good works in the Lord’s name. How much actual living had she missed because of it? Was this the remainder of her destiny, to follow the decrees and wishes of others instead of her own?
The words of the fortune teller bubbled to the forefront of her mind. Do not put stock in the opinions of others. Your life is your own. How could Vadoma have known that was exactly what she—Elizabeth—struggled with right now? She narrowed her gaze. “Thank you for that magnanimous concession.” The sarcasm in her tone was evident even to her own ears, and her heartbeat accelerated. Would he scold her for that and not curbing her tongue?
Shock rounded William’s eyes as he looked at her. “However, it’s Sunday. Perhaps the afternoon spent in reading the Bible and self-reflection would rid you of this sudden deplorable attitude. Women of the church should never show antagonistic spirit.”
That spirt he detested seemed to have a mind of its own as it awakened, as if events from yesterday had somehow manipulated a lock upon her soul. “I rather think wishing to do something for myself isn’t that, and neither is it selfish,” she quickly added before he could respond. “I merely wish for an outing, to put fresh air into my lungs so that they’ll continue to strengthen.” It wasn’t far from the truth.
“That is good thinking. You’ll need every bit of vigor to survive the rigors of India.”
She declined to comment on that. “I expect I’ll return soon, for as you said, there is nothing much of interest to one such as me.” The sourness of bile rose in the back of her throat. Elizabeth swallowed a few times. Suddenly, everything about her current life chafed. Current constraints were like a prison, designed of her own making and started with her parents. Surely this wasn’t all she had to look forward to, not all life would offer.