Chapter Sixteen
August 31, 1817
Of course, for her last day in Ipswich, rain had chosen to bedevil the area, one of those light mist-type rains that didn’t immediately see one drenched, but it was annoying for its dampness all the same. The fog that had stolen over the harbor from this morning had thankfully dissipated, but still, the rain was a mockery. If she were honest with herself, she’d say the dreary weather matched her mood.
Regardless of the wonderful night she spent with Brand, first going to a ball, and then lying with him on his sloop and knowing him in the Biblical sense, the fact remained that tomorrow she would leave for India. Despite her admitting that she loved him, he’d not returned the sentiment and neither had he said anything else along those lines.
But the emotion in his eye! As she recalled that look and the intensity in the way he’d joined with her on the deck, gooseflesh raced over her bare arms. After that coupling, she was hard-pressed to deny he didn’t feel something for her, yet why wouldn’t he say it? Time was clearly running out.
She adjusted her shawl over her head and chest as she hurried up the main road that went around the harbor. William had taken their only umbrella, for he intended one last time to minister to the lost of Ipswich. He’d been abed by the time she returned home early in the morning, exhausted but happy. By the time she’d risen to give him his breakfast, his mind was already on his mission. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked many questions about the ball or about Captain Storme. Perhaps he’d lost interest, or more to the point, he probably didn’t care, for they’d leave on the morrow and she’d be removed from temptation.
I don’t want to go.
The knots in Elizabeth’s stomach pulled tight. Too many emotions went through her mind and heart, as fast as racehorses, so she couldn’t quite encourage one of them to stay long enough to focus upon it. So, she called an image of Brand into her mind and ignored everything else. How could she make him understand that they were good together and that God had brought them together?
Perhaps she couldn’t, and he was merely the rake he continued to liken himself to. Oh, how she hoped that weren’t true, but why wouldn’t he declare himself? If he were afraid, she’d help him work through that morass. She couldn’t do anything unless he talked to her about it. Above everything, she loved him, adored the man that he was. Others might classify it as reckless or even appalling that she’d fallen in such a short period of time, and she supposed they were entitled to their opinion. However, in her heart of hearts, she knew the truth. He’d won her over by being nothing except kind and considerate, charming and honorable.
And if he doesn’t ask for your hand?
Elizabeth chose to ignore that niggle of common-sense flaring at the back of her mind, mostly because she couldn’t bear to think about a future that didn’t include the captain… or the life of servitude that awaited. The worst thing to do was live out someone else’s dream, and that’s exactly what would happen if William had his way.
Oh, Mama, Papa, would that you were here and could give me counsel.
Of course, they would most likely side with William, for it was inconceivable she could fall in love with a man who didn’t attend church, who regularly took the Lord’s name in vain, and had things in his past that even God himself would shudder at.
Eventually, she arrived at the Great White Horse hotel, for Brand had asked her to meet him there for a dinner in one of the private dining rooms and then he’d take her out for a twilight cruise around the harbor. Being that it was overcast, there wouldn’t be much of a sunset, but the sentiment was the same. Any time spent in his company was better than listening to William lament the number of sinners unwilling to hear his message. If she were fortunate, he would use that time alone to declare his feelings for her and ask for her hand. Then her immediate future would be settled, and she wouldn’t need to depart for India.
Please God, if that is Your will, make it so.
And if it wasn’t… Well, she wouldn’t think about that right now.
Once Elizabeth stepped into the corridor, she removed her damp shawl and hoped the moisture hadn’t done much damage to the plum-colored dress. The hem was a bit soiled, but it couldn’t be helped. The buzz of conversation and laughter drifted to her location the closer she moved toward the tavern’s common room. A faint smile curved her lips, for despite the patrons’ penchant for swearing and drinking, sometimes even smoking horrid pipes that filled the air with stinky clouds, she liked the sense of camaraderie the men seemed to have and the friendships that had been born in that room over time.
A barmaid drifted over to Elizabeth. Slightly older than the other one Elizabeth had spoken with the other day, this one wasn’t as buxom. Lines of exhaustion filled her face. “You’re here for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Hayhurst is already in your customary private dining room.”
Why is William here?Elizabeth frowned. “He told me he had business to attend.”
The barmaid snorted. “Oh, he’s attending to something, all right, but it ain’t his business.” She rolled her eyes. “Who are you meeting, then?”
“Captain Storme. He promised to reserve a room.”
“He did. Number three.”
“Ah.” Then, his laughter wafted through the air, and anticipation shivered down her spine. “Never mind. I’ll find him myself.” With a murmur of thanks, Elizabeth made her way through the tavern’s dining hall. How incredibly sad this would be the last time she’d observe the ambience or see the smiling faces of hardworking fishermen and merchants. Her brother never acted as if he truly enjoyed the life he led. As a Christian, shouldn’t happiness be at the forefront of one’s existence that might draw the lost to them like a flame to a moth?
Once she reached the table in the corner where Brand and his friends held court—seemingly in high spirits as they lifted their tankards in some sort of toast—she stopped and softly cleared her throat. Immediately, the conversation and laughter between the group of friends ceased. “Good evening, Brand, er, I mean Captain Storme.”
Since his back was to her, he scrambled to his feet and turned to face her. The three other men shot into standing positions as well. They exchanged glances with each other that ranged from speculative to knowing. “Uh, Elizabeth.” Though pleasure lit the gray depth of his eye, guilt scudded through Brand’s expression. Why did that one emotion keep popping up? “I thought we were to meet in one of the private dining rooms? It’s already reserved.”
“So I was told, but when I heard you, I decided to come over and fetch you myself.” She looked between Brand and his friends. “Have I interrupted a celebration?” Worry snaked through her belly, coiling cold and precise. This was the last evening she had with him, but would he wish to spend it with his mates instead?
“Uh, not really…” Brand hedged. He flicked his attention to something over her left shoulder while the men behind him snickered.
A man with a scruffy beard snorted. “Not true. The captain has just acquired a schooner.”