Chapter Two
August 16, 1817
Ipswich, England
Miss Elizabeth Hayhurst turned nine and twenty with no fanfare, no celebration, and nothing to mark the day as special. She wasn’t surprised, of course, since that was how she’d ushered in every other birthday she’d ever had. It was vanity to think otherwise or to wish to live one moment with all eyes on her. Or, heaven forbid, buy a new gown that wasn’t out of style or too big.
But, oh, how she could dream!
Yesterday, she and her brother William had gone shopping for monthly supplies, but never once had he mentioned her birthday. It still grated. A tad out of sorts, she walked behind William—nearly ten years her senior—as they entered the meadow where the traveling fair had set up. Not a half mile in the distance, the sunshine glimmered off the River Orwell. What must it feel like to board a boat and sail to points and ports unknown? How embarrassing it was to have lived in Ipswich for a year and never set foot on the water.
I do know this for certain: I will not leave here without going sailing once.
It was another thing William thought of as a sin—putting oneself on a boat for the specific purposes of entertainment or leisure. If life were up to her evangelical brother, no one would do anything except read the Bible and minister to people he considered in need of saving from condemnation. He took pleasure in yanking someone’s soul from the fiery pits of Hell and turning them into religious accolades for his brand of faith. Elizabeth believed in some of his strictures to a point, but the others were too fanatical and invasive for her tastes.
Unfortunately, since their parents had died five years prior in a church fire, and without any other family to speak of, where William went, so did she. The war had taken her only hope of marriage—thanks to her brother, men steered well clear of her—and now her future was rather bleak and murky. She had no choice but to accompany William wherever he decided to minister.
Her brother had been a parson since she was a young girl still in the schoolroom, and now that he’d become a devotee of the evangelical movement, he bounced around all corners of England and had never settled until he’d found his calling as a missionary. Soon he would leave for India, and since she had no other prospects, she would accompany him.
Whether she wished it or not.
Despite all of that, she thanked God every day that her ill-health and her doctor had decided Ipswich was what she needed for a while. The views were beautiful and for the most part, she could ignore William’s zeal while walking through the town and around the area to strengthen her lungs.
With a sigh, Elizabeth dabbed at the perspiration on her upper lip with a finger of her glove. The August sun was hot even for late afternoon, but her gown of heavy linen in an old-fashioned floral print did nothing to allow for air circulation. Neither did the equally outdated spencer, but William had insisted she wear it, for modesty’s sake, of course. Scandal might break out if a man spied a bit of her bare arm. An unladylike snort escaped her. How modest would it be if she succumbed to the heat and collapsed into a heap? Would he notice or would he continue his mission to convert the faithless and keep them from hell?
Stop that, Elizabeth. Such uncharitable thoughts.
They’d come more frequently of late, for over the course of the year she’d grown increasingly out of sorts with her life, but she made no effort to quell them. For once in her life, she wished she could wear a pretty gown that was currently in fashion with short sleeves and matching frivolous slippers merely to discover what it would feel like. Surely that didn’t make her vain; it certainly wouldn’t change her existence that much. She’d had a long time to think about such things and determine if they were a sin or not.
William glanced over his shoulder. “Are you feeling quite well, Elizabeth?”
Aside from the need to faint from the heat? “Yes. My lungs don’t hurt quite as much as they did before. I credit that with walking every fine day.”
“Good to hear. You must do everything you can to heal quickly, for we travel in a month’s time.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” For her recovery, William had brought her to Ipswich, though he’d grumbled about it the whole time. She needed to regain her strength after suffering a particularly violent bout of pleurisy last winter. Her doctor had warned that too much excitement or a lack of exercise could see a relapse, and that breathing clean air away from the pollution of London was vital to her recuperation, else they’d need to bleed her with leeches.
Again.
Or worse, keep her in a room away from everyone else until her lungs healed. A shiver racked her body. Never would she allow that. Leeches were bad enough, but isolation? She might as well pray for death. At the moment, she was strong and capable, had been since May, but then boredom had set in. It was time to test the limit of her lungs and perhaps enjoy life before she might travel with William. Though, she suspected the climate and conditions in far-flung India might tax her health more than the journey there, and she’d never verbally said she wished to go with her brother. Not that he’d ever asked her opinion. He never did, for according to him, women’s minds weren’t capable of difficult decisions. She shoved the thoughts from her mind, for it wasn’t good to dwell on uncertainties or bitterness.
“Don’t dawdle, Elizabeth,” William said. “There is much to do.” In his somber black suit and white clergy collar, and with a well-worn Bible clutched in one hand, he was every inch a country vicar. Why he refused to settle down with a wife, or find a living in England, she couldn’t fathom.
It would certainly be much easier—and cooler—here than in India. Perhaps he’s driven by something I can’t understand.
But in some ways, she did, for she had secret dreams and aspirations as well. The fact they went directly against the views of the church sent knots into her belly. Elizabeth hastened her steps and caught him up to walk at his side. “We’ve been in Ipswich a year. It’s pleasant and idyllic with all sorts of people in the town and countryside. Why not find a living nearby? I can just as easily keep your house here.” She nodded as if to encourage him. “It’s a good sight better than London, and I adore the slight tang of saltiness in the air if the wind is right.”
“I don’t care for the sea.” William kept walking. Of course he wouldn’t give her idea a thought. He never did, so why would he start now?
“No?” The urge to needle him grew strong, and not even grace could help throttle it. “I find it invigorating. Something about the sea calls to me. Since we’ve been here, I’ve felt its pull.” She allowed a small smile. “I’d love to learn how to sail.”
He grunted. “You’d do well to stay away from temptation.”
Dear heavens.According to her brother, everything that wasn’t reading the Bible or listening to a sermon was a temptation. “What do you assume the sea will do to ruin me?” Every day during her walk, she watched boats of all shapes and sizes depart the port to sail down the River Orwell and farther into the North Sea. Where did they go? What did those men sea while on their trips?
Oh, to have such freedom!
“Not the sea, sister dear; the men who sail it.” William glanced at her with concern in his blue eyes so like her own. “Bounders, all of them. No good can come from knowing a sailor, and Ipswich harbors a few rotten reprobates.”